


Under the Mask

by webbless



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-adjacent, Friends to Lovers, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, My First Fanfic, Post-Dragons (Overwatch), Post-Recall, Shimada Brothers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:05:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webbless/pseuds/webbless
Summary: “You wear the mask for too long and you start to forget what your face looks like underneath,” Ana had told McCree once, and McCree, seeing Hanzo wander the base like a ghost, keeping his face composed and controlled at all times, saw fit to pass on that bit of advice.After learning his brother was alive, Hanzo tried to join him in Overwatch but found the people there unpleasant and unwelcoming, so he returned to his life as a hired assassin until a year later when Genji is injured on a mission. He comes back to Gibraltar and decides to give trusting the people of this organization another chance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic! I hope you enjoy it! It wasn't beta read, so please let me know if you find any typos/errata/etc.  
> I used {brackets} to denote when the Shimadas are speaking Japanese because I don't speak any Japanese, and I didn't want to deal with awkward translations.

Hanzo arrives like a storm, whipping through the base quickly enough that Athena barely has time to interrupt the meeting to let Winston know he has a visitor before Hanzo slams the door open and enters, all sharp lines and cold fury. McCree draws his weapon out of habit--he doesn’t like surprises, and the surprise of the door opening so suddenly to reveal an unfamiliar face is a little too much for his nerves. 

It takes until Winston speaks for McCree to recognize him--he hasn’t seen the elder Shimada brother in over a year, and he didn’t look a thing like this during the five weeks he’d bothered to hang around. 

Winston jumps up like he’s been shocked, nearly overturning the table in front of him. 

“Shima--ah, Hanzo...no, er Shimada-san,” Winston stutters, before adjusting his glasses, taking a deep breath, starting over. “How do you do?” 

Even without having seen Hanzo in so long, and without ever having seen the archer angry, McCree recognizes the emotion the moment Hanzo steps foot in the room. Shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides, lips pressed together. For all his being a several-ton gorilla easily at least four times Hanzo’s size, Winston looks positively cowed under the archer’s shrewd glare. 

Hanzo does not respond to Winston; he only scowls at him, and McCree can’t help but let out a low breath at the weight of that gaze. In that moment, Hanzo is every inch the yakuza lord he used to be, all haughty superiority and silent command. 

“I’ll...uh...take you to your--to Genji,” Winston stutters. Hanzo only narrows his eyes, but Winston seems to understand this as confirmation of the assassin’s desires, and Winston lumbers clumsily around Hanzo, attempting to give him a wide berth before Hanzo turns and follows him out of the room. 

“Who the hell was that?” Hana asks as soon as the door closes, her high voice filling the sudden silence. 

“That would be Genji’s brother, Hanzo,” McCree says, leaning back in his seat like he’d never moved to the edge of it, never had Peacekeeper trained on Hanzo and ready to fire if he looked like he was about to strike. 

“I guess he heard about Genji’s injuries,” Hana says, more quietly this time, understanding. 

“Anyone else a little nervous for Ang and Lúcio? He sure didn’t look happy,” Lena pipes up, usually-chipper voice a little subdued. She and McCree exchange a concerned glance. Hana didn’t have the same history with the archer they did--not that they had much in the way of history. Rather, Hana had no way of knowing the assassin’s history with his brother. 

“Wonder how he found out?” McCree asks aloud, then looks over at Hana, typing furiously on her comm. 

She looks up when she’s done, smiling. “I wanted to warn Lú about the angry hottie heading his way.” 

“Hottie?” Lena sputters. 

“I mean he’s not _my_ type, but, like, you did _see_ him, right? And I’m sure Lú won’t be upset to see him, either, as long as he's not too put off by the grumpiness” she says, returning to her comm to continue typing. 

McCree can’t help but let out a bark of a laugh at the comment, realizing a little too late that he’d thought the same thing. The assassin looks so different from the last time McCree had seen him, but as McCree chuckles along with Hana, he realizes he’s more than impressed with the changes. 

The meeting disperses after that, since without Winston, there’s not much else to do. McCree wanders back to his room, shamelessly taking the long way because it will lead him right outside the medbay. He runs into Winston on his way, who mutters a quick excuse about needing to check on something in his lab and quickly makes himself scarce. 

He peeks in the tiny window in the medbay door, sees Hanzo staring impassively at his unconscious brother while Angela scurries around the room, lips pressed together and brow furrowed like she was trying to stop herself from ordering Hanzo out of the room. 

McCree decides not to add more to the doctor’s plate when he sees a metal hand reach out and settle on Hanzo’s stiff shoulder. When he leans a little, McCree sees Zenyatta floating next to Hanzo, apparently trying to comfort him as he watches his unconscious brother. 

McCree shrugs and makes his way back out to the main room and through the doors and into the fresh autumn air. A cigarillo is in his hands the second he’s outside, and he strolls behind the base of the comm tower, far enough out of the way that no one could see him from the main building--or even the main door--but he knows he can’t escape Athena’s cameras, and he doesn’t try to. The AI might alert Angela, but he’s used to her scolding him for his smoking habit. 

McCree chuckles at the messages he receives from Winston--a quick apology to the agents who were in the meeting and a promise to reschedule the debrief for another day. And then another, to everyone, letting them know they have a guest--one Hanzo Shimada, Genji’s brother, who will be around the base during Genji’s recovery but is staying at a hotel in town. 

# 

Genji doesn’t wake up until the next afternoon, and Angela sends a message to everyone on base letting them know that he’s willing and able to have visitors a little after dinner. McCree joins the growing group crowding around his bed to see how he’s doing and brushes shoulders with Hanzo as the archer leaves the medbay. McCree pauses for a moment, watching the assassin’s retreating back. Even with the haircut and piercings, this was the Hanzo McCree remembered--face impassive and unreadable, though if McCree had to put a name to it, he’d call the expression on Hanzo’s face haughty. But when he’d said that to Genji last year, the ninja had only laughed. 

McCree’s attention is drawn back to the present when he hears laughter behind him, and he turns to join in welcoming Genji back to the land of the living. He stays for a while, laughing and joking with the others, until the crowd becomes tiresome and McCree makes a quiet exit. 

If it were his brother laid out like that, he’d hate to leave his side. Hell, he already hates to leave Genji’s side, but McCree knows there’s nothing he can do to help, and he can’t stand being in the room made cramped with so many others any longer. He makes a quick decision then, walks far enough from the medbay to avoid being overheard and taps his comm to turn on the screen. 

“Athena, where’s Hanzo?” 

“Agent Shimada is outside, on the higher platform of the comm tower. Would you like me to ping his comm and let him know you’re looking for him?” 

“No, I--Agent? He has a comm?” McCree struggles to pick one part to focus on. _Agent Shimada_ has a _comm_. Maybe he’d never been taken out of the system from his short tenure here right after the recall. But that was over a year ago, and there’s no way Winston or Athena could have been that careless. 

“Yes, shall I ping him for you?” Athena asks, and McCree decides _Agent_ Shimada’s _comm_ is a problem for another day. 

“No thanks, darlin’. I’ll just head out and see ‘im,” he says, turning toward the exit that will let him out closest to the tower. 

“Very well, but I would caution against surprising him,” Athena says, and McCree would swear he detects a trace of humor in her modulated voice. 

“Thanks for the advice.” 

After a short struggle making his way up to the higher platform of the tower, McCree finds Hanzo sitting on the edge and looking out at the water. McCree takes a seat next to him, and Hanzo looks surprised for a moment, before his face falls back into his completely neutral, disinterested state. This is the face McCree remembers--a stoic, unreadable mask. Hanzo’d been a ghost during the few weeks he’d spent around the base when Genji first brought him in, but whenever anyone caught sight of him, his face always looked the same: like the archer had never experienced a single emotion in his life and any emotions he might be tempted to feel were beneath him. McCree recognized the purposely blank look for what it was. He hadn’t said anything about it last time. 

McCree takes out his lighter, shields the tiny flame from the soft wind coming up the cliff face, and breathes in his first huff of smoke. As he watches Hanzo struggle to deal with this new place, McCree can’t help but remember back when he was new to Blackwatch, fresh from the Deadlocks, still a spitfire and snapping at everyone who looked his way. Until the day he found himself crying in a hidden corner of the base, unable to stop, and unsure why he was even crying at all. 

_“You wear the mask for too long and you start to forget what your face looks like underneath,” Ana had told him, when she and Gabe happened upon them. It wasn’t until much later that McCree learned Athena had alerted them to his distress and sent them to find him._

_“The hell’re you talkin’ about?” he’d snapped at her, huffing through his sobs._

_Gabe stepped in then, kneeled next to him and placed a hand McCree would never admit to finding entirely comforting on his slim shoulder._

_“You’re good at reading other people--good enough that you always know exactly what image of yourself to give them to get what you want from them.”_

_McCree opened his mouth to argue, but Ana cut him off with a wave of her hand._

_“And you are observant enough of others that you will be able to figure yourself out.” She leaned down then to poke his cheek gently. “Take care to do so before it is too late,” she said, gave him one of her sharp smiles, then walked off, leaving him with Gabe._

McCree shifts his legs a little, snapping back to the present, smiles around his cigarillo and thanks the ghosts in his head for the perfect thing to say. 

“You know,” he says in his low drawl between puffs, “If you wear that mask for too long, you’ll start to forget what your face looks like underneath.” 

Hanzo turns to look at him then, face as impassive as ever. 

“Surprisingly wise,” Hanzo says, and McCree decides not to take offense. 

“And true.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Hanzo says, turning back to stare out at the sea. “It is fortunate, then, that this is not a mask.” 

“No?” McCree asks, blowing out a puff of smoke as he does. “Then what d’you call the way you keep your face all stiff ‘n’ controlled like that?” He reaches out, as if to poke Hanzo’s cheek, but pulls his hand back at the last second, a little unnerved that Hanzo doesn’t so much as look his way at the movement, like all he can see is the water and the way the waning moon hits it. 

When Hanzo speaks, his voice is loud enough for McCree to hear, but something in the sudden softness of his voice makes McCree think Hanzo’s words are more for himself. 

“Composure,” he says. Hanzo’s calm voice reveals nothing of his thoughts, but McCree doesn’t miss that his hands are clenched into fists on his knees. 

### 

Genji attempts to hide his weariness at Hanzo’s incessant hovering by insisting Hanzo needs to explore the base to see how much it has changed in the past year. Hanzo recognizes the dismissal for what it is and bows out at graciously as he can, appropriately chided. This was far from Genji’s first injury, and farther still from his worst. But Genji has not been bedridden since Hanzo has learned that he still lives only sixteen months ago, and he cannot help but worry at the thought of losing his brother so soon after getting him back. Losing him _again_. 

Hanzo remembers less of the base than he would have thought. He spent his few weeks here exploring every part of it, familiarizing himself with the layout in case of attack. At the time, he was distracted by a great many things, though, so it does not surprise him that his memories of those few short weeks would be so hazy. 

Genji told him of the many new members to join Overwatch since then, too, and Hanzo finds traces of these new members everywhere he looks. The common room that once contained only a dingy couch now has several large screens and more pieces of electronic equipment than Hanzo has seen in one room outside of a large corporation’s server room. The kitchen is cleaner, but more cramped, as several tables have been dragged inside. There is much more to explore, but Hanzo avoids any room with people in it and exits the main part of the base into the warm Mediterranean autumn. 

He lets himself wander a little, taking in the various buildings he spent the last few days speeding past to get back to the medbay and his brother’s side. This is how he finds himself in a small garden hidden somewhat out of sight of the main thoroughfares but exposed enough to reap the benefits of sunlight. It’s close enough to the side of a nearby building that a small overhang casts shadow on the side of the garden where no flowers grow, and this is where Hanzo sits, relaxing into the soft grass and the cool shelter of the shade. 

Here, he lets his mind wander, remembering the weeks he’d spent in Gibraltar shortly after learning Genji was not dead, like he’d thought for so long. Shortly after learning the new friends he had made before his yearly pilgrimage to Hanamura were not who he thought. This place holds many harsh associations for him, and he tries to remind himself that the people of Overwatch are different--Genji trusts them, and he trusts Genji, so even if it turns out that they aren’t actually different, then perhaps it doesn’t actually matter. If this is some sort of convoluted and drawn-out trap, then perhaps he deserves whatever’s coming to him. 

Though of course, he reminds himself for the umpteenth time since he began working with his brother, if Genji wanted him dead, he had ample opportunities to attack. 

_Revenge takes only the one who seeks it_ , Genji had told Hanzo, many times, during those first few months. A reminder that, while Genji had once wanted to kill Hanzo, he had long since forgiven him. Hanzo still reminds himself of this fact often, finds it easier to convince himself of its authenticity when he lets himself remember all the times he went out on missions with Genji this past year and how many of those times could have easily ended with Hanzo dead had his brother truly wished it. 

His mind does this sometimes--arguing with itself over the things he’s learned, and Hanzo has grown accustomed to the noise in his head. 

Hanzo sits this way for a long time, letting the old argument play over and over in his mind, before he’s finally disturbed. He tenses when he sees the Bastion unit amble into the garden before remembering being introduced to it during his last visit. Torbjorn had brought the Bastion with him when he answered the Recall--had found it living in the wilderness and scaring the local authorities despite making no move to attack. 

A curious sight, seeing the Bastion water the flowers, tend to them carefully, whirring and beeping at the bird nesting on its shoulder. Hanzo watches quietly for a few minutes before standing, making a little more noise than strictly necessary to make the Bastion aware of his presence. The omnic startles slightly, and the bird takes flight at the sudden movement, chirping its annoyance. 

“I apologize for startling you,” Hanzo says, because he thinks his wisest option is to be polite to the ambulatory weapon before him. 

The Bastion makes a few curious beeps, and the bird settles back on its shoulder, chirping impatiently. Hanzo hesitates to move around the Bastion when it may still be startled but doesn’t want to scale the wall behind him to escape, so he settles for more words. 

“Is this your garden?” 

The Bastion lets out a few whirrs and chirps, and Hanzo takes this to mean that this likely is the omnic’s garden. 

“It is very lovely,” Hanzo says, then bows his head slightly. “I apologize for disturbing you.” He moves to walk away and tenses when the Bastion steps forward to block his egress. The machine chirps and beeps cheerfully, using its non-weapon hand to direct Hanzo back to his seat in the grass. Hanzo raises his eyebrows but returns to his seat, and the Bastion returns to its work, this time chirping more loudly as it works, as if to make conversation. Hanzo does not understand the sounds, so he does not say anything. 

Eventually, the bird ventures close to Hanzo to inspect him. It lands far enough in front of Hanzo that it is outside of his reach, and it stares at him for longer than Hanzo would have thought a bird could give its attention to anything before letting out a single chirp of approval and flying back to the Bastion’s shoulder. 

# 

Two days later, Hanzo prepares to leave the base at Gibraltar and return to his usual work. He has already stayed longer than he meant to while Genji recovers, and he begins to feel the familiar restlessness that comes when he stays too long in a place where his safety is not certain. He does not believe any of the Overwatch agents would attack him, but neither does he believe any of them would much mind if someone else came to attack him. 

This is not a fair assessment, he realizes, as much can change in one year. The cowboy showed him this on his second day back--when he sought Hanzo out. But no, Hanzo shakes his head, one friendly gesture does not make an entire base safe. 

_The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step_ . Hanzo sighs as his brother’s words come to his mind unbidden. Genji sounds so much like his omnic master now, filled with these proverbs and aphorisms for every situation. But still so similar to the Genji he knew as a child: quick-witted and ready with a pithy rejoinder to every comment. Except now, his responses tended more toward calm wisdom than snappy sarcasm and the subtle difference sometimes chafed at Hanzo’s patience. 

When his comm pings, Hanzo quickly sticks the earpiece in. He sent Winston a message earlier, wanting to speak with him and apologize for his behavior a few days ago before leaving. His anger was misplaced, and since he speaks with the scientist so often, he does not wish to leave on a bad note. He’s surprised when Athena informs him not of Winston wishing to meet with him, but of Bastion inviting him to return to the garden. Curious, Hanzo finds himself wandering back toward the omnic’s garden before he has fully decided to go. 

The Bastion seems genuinely excited to see Hanzo again, if his loud, quick beeps are any indication. It once again ushers Hanzo toward the shaded patch of grass on the side of garden before returning to work tending to the plants, and Hanzo watches with some curiosity. 

The little bird is friendlier this time, landing a little closer to chirp a friendly greeting at Hanzo. He reaches out a hand slowly, and the bird hops forward into his reach so Hanzo can pat its head softly. The bird chirps happily, and Bastion echoes the sound. 

Hanzo cannot help but smile--of course he would find it easier to make friends with an omnic and a bird than another human being. Bastion beeps louder then, and leaves his garden duties to sit next to Hanzo. The movements are rough, and he plops more than sits in the grass next to him. Hanzo only smiles, not wanting Bastion to think he is laughing at him but wanting to let him know he won’t run. It must be difficult for a former weapon of war to make friends in an organization that was created to destroy it. 

“Thank you for being so welcoming,” Hanzo says eventually, and the Bastion beeps happily, motioning out at the garden. Hanzo still does not understand the omnic’s sounds, but he guesses the Bastion is saying it is happy to share the beauty of its little garden with someone from the way it seems to look proudly out at the growing flowers. As proudly as a machine with only a long, vertical light for a face can look at something. 

“I will be leaving soon,” Hanzo says slowly, and the Bastion beeps softly, sadly, curiously. Hanzo wonders at its ability to communicate emotion so clearly with only a few sounds. 

“I am not really a member of Overwatch,” Hanzo explains. “I have assisted Genji on missions, but I do not think I should stay here when I have no intention of joining. But,” Hanzo continues, interrupting Bastion’s sad whirrs and chirps, “I will try to visit. It has been pleasant to see my brother when we are not on a mission. And I could hardly stay away from your lovely garden.” 

This seems to cheer Bastion up, and it chirps happily at him, beeping and whirring, and Hanzo imagines it is trying to explain the many plants and flowers it will plant in Hanzo’s absence for him to enjoy when he returns. 

“Winston is available to meet with you, Hanzo,” Athena chirps helpfully in his ear. 

“Thank you, Athena,” Hanzo says, and then to Bastion, “I must meet with Winston to discuss my work with Overwatch. I am certain I will see you again.” 

Bastion whirrs and beeps, and Hanzo bows his goodbye. 

# 

The conversation goes differently than Hanzo expects. He walked in, intending to apologize, but Winston would hear none of it, instead asking if Hanzo would be willing to hang around the base a little longer to assist with another mission next month. It would require somewhat more subtlety than many of the current agents could manage, and though Genji would not be on the mission, Winston wanted to ask Hanzo to join, as his help would be, as Winston put it, vital to the success of the mission. He’s still working out a few minor details but plans to put a meeting together in the next few days with the team he’d like to send and can provide more information then. 

“I will consider it,” Hanzo says, because it has been too pleasant seeing his brother to say no outright. And this time, the other agents have not watched him with barely-concealed distaste or anger when he crosses their paths. It is not a comfortable place, but he does not feel as unwelcome as he did last year. 

“I hope you know you’re welcome to stay here while you think--and for as long as you’d like after. You’re a member of Overwatch, and this can be your home, too, if you’d like it to be.” 

Hanzo bows his head in acknowledgement but does not wish to argue his membership status so soon after making up with the large scientist. 

“There’s a room available for you. If you’d like, I can ask someone to join you in town to help you bring your belongings back,” Winston says, voice light and hopeful. 

“That will not be necessary.” 

“Oh,” Winston says, shoulders slumping in disappointment, and Hanzo is quick to explain. 

“I only have a few bags; I can retrieve them on my own and return in a few hours.” 

Winston perks up a little at this, smiles his wide grin. “Excellent! We also have vehicles if you--I know you usually walk, but if you would prefer to drive, you are welcome to use a vehicle.” 

“Thank you,” Hanzo says with a small bow. “That would be much appreciated.” 

Winston points Hanzo in the direction of the garage, and Hanzo does not correct the scientist’s assumption that he does not already know where it is. 

To his surprise, Genji greets him in the garage--he’d apparently asked Athena to let him know if Hanzo headed off base, fearful Hanzo would leave without saying goodbye. 

“I will return shortly,” Hanzo says. 

“‘Shortly’ could mean anything with you. It could be months before I see you again.” 

“It will be only a few hours. Winston has extended the offer for me to more formally join Overwatch and,” he says, holding up a hand to cut Genji off before he gets too excited, “I have agreed to stay here while I make my decision. I am going into town to retrieve my belongings. So: I will return shortly.” 

Despite his protests that he does not need the assistance, Genji insists on accompanying him. Clad in loose sweatpants and a large hoodie to disguise his mechanical body, he chatters excitedly about how much Hanzo will enjoy staying on base, promises that things will be different from last time. Hanzo lets him talk, enjoying hearing his brother’s excited descriptions of all the other agents, even if Hanzo has heard them all before. Grateful that neither his near-death nor his time with the omnic monks has lessened his spirit, Hanzo can only smile softly and let his brother bounce in his seat. 

The trip would have taken much longer if he’d walked, so Hanzo is grateful, too, for the use of the truck. He loads his bags, already packed for his expected departure, into the truck, but Genji hesitates. 

{Is something wrong?} Hanzo asks, switching to Japanese, in case this conversation needs to remain private. 

{Would you like to...do something before we head back?} 

{Is there something in particular you would like to do?} 

Genji thinks for a moment, tilts his head, considering. {There is a bubble tea shop not far from here.} 

Hanzo nods, smiles, locks the truck. {Lead the way.} 

He lets Genji continue dominating the conversation, as he has little to say. They enjoy their bubble tea on the walk back to the truck, and Hanzo does not even put up a fight when Genji asks if he can drive. The trip back feels almost comforting to Hanzo. The Overwatch headquarters is not his home, but he can enjoy his time there with his brother and his new friend while he waits for another job to take him away again. 

The drive back is interrupted twice: first by Athena, who chirps to alert them that Winston has called for an impromptu meeting. When they relay it will still be a while before they return, Winston responds, says not to worry about it, explains he thinks Hanzo might be more comfortable not attending anyway as he is going to announce to the rest of the team that Hanzo is becoming a more permanent fixture on the base for the foreseeable future. Hanzo tries to argue that he has not yet agreed to join Overwatch, and Winston only laughs, agrees, says he at least wants to update the rest of the team on the situation because he’s tired of keeping secrets. 

Hanzo knows the minute Winston relays the news to the rest of the team because his comm chirps with the second interruption, alerting him to a message from Bastion. Over the comm, he can likely communicate more clearly if he chose to type his words, but instead the friendly omnic sends a video message, chirping gleefully while Winston tries to reign in the room’s attention in the background. Hanzo cannot help but grin at his friend’s excitement. 

The others do not sound angry, exactly, more confused--how long has Hanzo been taking missions? How has Winston been able to keep this from them? Why were they not told sooner? What kinds of missions? How often? 

Hanzo hears Zenyatta’s soothing voice join the chorus, trying to help with the explanation, and Hanzo feels grateful that Winston thought to hold this meeting while Hanzo was away. He would not want this attention on him. And then he cannot help but wonder at how grateful he has been feeling lately. 

The video message cuts out with a cheerful wave from Bastion, and with the noise from the message gone, Hanzo hears his brother chuckling beside him. 

“I had not realized the two of you had become so close.” 

“Bastion is easy to get along with.” 

“Is that because he doesn’t speak?” Genji asks, voice light but too soft, like he’s worried about saying the wrong thing. 

“Nonsense. Bastion is almost as noisy as you are. I am beginning to think I will never get any peace,” he grumbles, but he does not mean it. Genji smiles more broadly then but keeps his eyes on the road as he drives. 

# 

Sitting quietly in Bastion’s garden, sipping his tea, Hanzo cannot help but feel somewhat restless. Having agreed not to take on any private assignments while staying in Gibraltar, but without having agreed to fully join Overwatch, he finds himself with too much time on his hands. His days have taken on a more monotonous than usual routine of training, meditating, sipping tea in Bastion’s garden, and attempting to keep himself hidden from the agents on base. He still speaks with Genji and Zenyatta (who are rarely seen apart) almost daily, and he started taking tea into Bastion’s garden some afternoons while the omnic works, and he even enjoys the occasional quiet company of Ms. Vaswani during their very early tea and breakfast. But he tries to avoid the others on base because they are too loud or too friendly or too cheerful and despite Genji’s insistence that he make the effort to get to know more of them, Hanzo finds he cannot spend much time with any of them before he becomes impatient or disinterested. 

So, he finds himself alone more often than not, especially after a vigilante who sometimes works with Overwatch finds evidence of Talon activity in Dorado which leads to clues in several other places. The missions pick up suddenly, causing too many of the agents to run themselves ragged to keep up. 

But Hanzo only sits and enjoys his tea in Bastion’s garden, caring for the plants when Bastion is away, wishing for more to do while appreciating that the sudden increase in activity has kept the attention away from himself. Winston’s announcement that Hanzo had been working for Overwatch from the sidelines had brought more attention to him than he would have liked. Many of the agents, old and new, were suddenly interested in him, and he had taken to literally climbing the walls to escape. It was shameful to run from these people, but the disappointment he felt for himself would always be preferable to their hounding questions, their curious eyes. 

Thankfully, Bastion only made a few cheerful beeps the next time he saw Hanzo after the announcement, and Hanzo bowed his head in acknowledgement before being invited back to the garden. Hanzo knows this is not a hiding place--it is out of the way, but no secret, and his brother has found him here several times since Hanzo first started spending time in the shade of Bastion’s garden. 

This is where Genji finds him again, two weeks after Hanzo first arrived. Genji joins his brother in the shade, and they watch Bastion work in his garden in silence for much longer than Hanzo would have thought possible, even as Genji twitches his fingers--an old tic that apparently even his time with omnic monks could not train out of him. Despite how loudly this action declares that Genji has something to say, he remains silent through the entire afternoon. 

This is not so unusual, Hanzo reminds himself. He has spent long bouts of silence with Genji--this new Genji--before. But the Genji from his youth would have grown impatient quickly, shouted his thoughts, run off to get into trouble and make Hanzo drag him back. 

Bastion chirps curiously at them when he finishes his work, and the brothers nod. Bastion watches them curiously for a moment and then retreats inside, leaving the dragons to their silence. It lasts into dusk, and Hanzo wonders what his brother could wish to speak about that would keep him even from joining his comrades for dinner or joining his master for their evening meditation. 

Hanzo’s curiosity wins out over his desire to see how long Genji can remain silent. 

{You seem troubled.} Hanzo says, in their shared language, wary of the potential for eavesdroppers, even among allies. 

Genji sighs, removes his faceplate, stares straight ahead. {Have you given any more thought to staying?} 

{I have.} 

{And?} Genji asks, this time, turning to face his brother. 

{When I came here before, it was because you asked me to, and I felt I owed it to you.} He sighs, shakes his head. {But I could not stay. Now, it is...different. And difficult. I have given it much thought, but I have not yet made my decision. I think, perhaps, this mission Winston wants me to go on will help. If I can do this, if I can work with the other agents that will be on that mission, then I may be able to stay. But if not...} Hanzo sighs again, turns back to stare out at the garden. {I have given it much thought, but I have yet to decide.} 

Genji opens his mouth to respond, but pauses at the expression on Hanzo’s face, who’s now looking over Genji’s shoulder, frowning. Genji whips around to see McCree stumble out of the building behind them, cursing in a language Hanzo doesn’t understand. It must mean more to Genji, however, because he lets out a quiet chuckle, which grabs the cowboy’s attention. 

“Something on your mind, my friend?” Genji asks. 

“Not at all,” the cowboy lies, digging roughly into his pocket for something Hanzo can’t see. 

“You seem troubled,” Genji says, his voice even, betraying no hint that only a few moments ago, these same words had been said to him. 

Hanzo knows better than to be surprised by the softness of his voice--though Genji was never expected to take over as the head of the clan, he was subjected to some of the same training as Hanzo. Including staying composed, controlling the tone of his voice and the path of his gaze. But these were not things Genji cared for in his youth--these lessons had been lost on Genji until his time with the Shambali. Hanzo is already used to these changes, he reminds himself. He reminds himself of this often. 

“Why would I be?” the gunslinger asks roughly, and Hanzo sees that the item in his hand is a carton of cigarettes. Cigarillos, he corrects himself, when the cowboy yanks one out of the carton and clamps it between his teeth. He finally seems to notice Hanzo then--from the angle he entered the garden, Hanzo, sitting next to Genji, was sort of behind his brother from the other man’s perspective. McCree takes a deep, ragged breath, then digs his lighter out of his pocket, keeping his wary gaze on Hanzo. 

Hanzo only hums and looks away, not wishing to take part in this conversation. He is not friends with the gunslinger and would not want to intrude, but it would seem rude to simply walk away. So he only sits. He does not pay close attention to the conversation that happens beside him, so he has to ask Genji to repeat himself when he realizes it has grown quiet and Genji and McCree both watch him expectantly. 

{What?} Hanzo asks, and Genji smirks. 

{Is our conversation boring you, brother?} 

Hanzo cannot help the indelicate snort that escapes him, and he is rewarded with Genji’s shy grin. 

{It is simply strange to see you like this,} Hanzo says, nodding his head toward McCree, who watches them with interest. 

{Friendly?} Genji prompts. 

{Tactful.} 

{How impolite! Now which of us is not being tactful?} 

Hanzo lets the small smile part his lips, crinkle the skin around his eyes. He watches his brother affectionately while he laughs at his own little joke, letting himself remember for a moment what that laugh sounded like before the machinery made it harsh and halting. Before the machinery that Genji needs to live because of what Hanzo had done to him. His smile fades, and he is aware then of the cowboy watching him closely, eyebrows raised so high as to be almost lost under his shaggy hair. Hanzo’s mind races through the last few minutes of conversation he had missed and picks on the last thing he remembers his brother saying to the gunslinger: _You shouldn’t hold it in. You have friends you can talk to here. Right, Hanzo?_

“Genji is right; it is not healthy to...hold it in,” Hanzo says. 

“I’m not holdin’ nothin’ in. I’m doin’ fine,” the cowboy lies. 

“This is what you call ‘fine’?” Genji says, leaning back a little, and Hanzo watches the side of his brother’s head as he makes a show of looking his friend up and down. “Hm.” 

The cowboy frowns at Genji, then looks at Hanzo and a small smile tugs the corner of his lips. He lights his cigarillo, breathes deep, exhales a large puff of smoke. 

“Nah. This is what I call ‘composure’,” the cowboy says. 

Hanzo almost smiles at this, so he turns his gaze to the sea past the edge of the garden. He had forgotten how charming the cowboy could be--how _charismatic_ , he corrects himself. He does not need reminding of what happened the last time he found a coworker charming. 

Or perhaps he does, he thinks, as he hears the gunslinger engage his brother in easy conversation, both men sounding lighter, both avoiding the topic of nightmares or holding things in. 

_If you wear that mask for too long_ , the cowboy’s voice drawls in Hanzo’s memory, _you’ll start to forget what your face looks like underneath_. Curious, then, that the cowboy does not heed his own advice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Under the Mask"! Please let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Also, I love [this comic of Hanzo smiling](http://thetiniestcicada.tumblr.com/post/157307983471/tbh-hanzo-smiling-is-an-inevitable-critical-hit), which is kind of what I was imagining when I wrote that part toward the end (where Hanzo smiles and then looks up to see McCree staring at him).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo makes another friend and enjoys some tea and friendly competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read and re-read this too many times now and I can't even process the words anymore, so if there are typos/errors/things that don't make sense, please let me know!

Hanzo surprises himself by bringing an extra cup the next time he goes to the garden. He sets it on the low table Bastion had managed to drag out to the shaded area of the garden the previous week and pours tea for himself and for the omnic, who trills excitedly at it. He can’t drink it, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from thanking Hanzo profusely for it. Bastion’s bird companion, Ganymede, ends up settling on the table near the cup, peering curiously into it before dunking its beak in. 

Hanzo decides he will bring water next time so Ganymede can drink more of it, and Bastion seems equally as pleased by the cup of water when Hanzo returns a few days later. This time, Ganymede stays on the table, slowly drinking the water while Bastion works. 

After that visit, Hanzo makes a quick trip to town to purchase bird seed, but he holds onto it when Bastion is sent away for a few days on a mission. Hanzo still takes his tea to the garden and cares for the plants in the omnic’s absence, but without the steady beeping of Bastion and the gentle chirping of Ganymede, the quiet becomes suffocating. Two days later, he goes out to care for the garden, then returns to the kitchen to prepare his tea. He timed this, knowing that most of the agents tended to be busy in the late morning. Of the agents remaining on base, some would be in the training room while the rest would be in their various labs. He sets about preparing his tea expecting the quiet, and he stiffens when he hears the door to the kitchen open behind him. He forces himself to relax first before turning his head slightly to see Agent Symmetra enter the room. He gives her a terse nod, and she returns it, and Hanzo returns his focus to his tea. 

“Sencha?” Symmetra asks after a moment. 

“Yes,” Hanzo says. And then, becauses the past week has been full of surprises, “would you care for some?” 

“That is very kind of you, thank you.” 

Hanzo hears her take a seat at the counter behind him, and he retrieves another mug from the cabinet. He prepares the tea for both of them, and sets Symmetra’s mug in front of her. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent. 

“I did not realize the base had this in stock,” she says after a long sip. 

“I brought it with me,” Hanzo replies. 

“I did not realize I was taking from your personal stock. I hope I did not trouble you.” 

“It was no trouble,” Hanzo says shaking his head. “Tea should be enjoyed by those who appreciate it.” 

She nods, and they return to drinking their tea in silence. But the silence is more comfortable with someone else there, even if it isn’t his omnic and bird friends. They exchange very few words--only enough for them to reintroduce themselves, which Hanzo appreciates because he did not remember her name was Satya Vaswani, and he imagines she did not remember his was Shimada Hanzo. She does not ask why he’s not training with the others, and he does not ask why she isn’t, either. Lucio is still on base, and is very likely training, and though he does not know these people well, he knows enough to be familiar with the tension between these two. It would be difficult not to know, as they argue almost every time they’re in the same room, which many of the other agents on base work to ensure does not happen often. 

The next morning, Hanzo leaves his room early to complete his morning routines. Bastion and Ganymede will return before lunch, and Hanzo plans to meet them in the garden once they’ve had time to debrief and greet their other friends on base. 

The smell hits Hanzo as soon as the door opens, and he looks down to see a small brown package with a little note atop it. If the familiar smell hadn’t tipped him off, the perfectly-centered tag on the precisely folded bag would have. Still, he opens the note, which contains only a simple “Thank you” and brings the package closer to inhale the spicy scent of a chai blend. 

He brings his chai and the bird seed to the garden after lunch, and Bastion greets him happily. Hanzo sets out the cup of water and seed for Ganymede, who flutters and trills and dives in while Bastion gets to work, regaling Hanzo with an in-depth description of every aspect of his most recent mission. 

Hanzo has some trouble following as Bastion beeps a few unfamiliar sounds and patterns, but Hanzo gathers they met another omnic in Numbani and are in talks to bring her into Overwatch. Bastion seems excited by the prospect of having another omnic around, and Hanzo smiles and nods along as his friend beeps and whirs and chirps. 

“I thought I might find you here,” Genji says, startling Hanzo, who was so focused on paying attention to Bastion’s story that he missed Genji’s too-quiet footsteps. Genji lets out a chuckle that sounds like a heavy breath through his mask then takes a seat next to his brother. He holds out a cup, which Hanzo fills with tea for his brother as he removes his face plate. 

“This is not your usual tea,” Genji says when Hanzo pushes his cup back to him. 

“No,” Hanzo says, sipping his tea and returning his attention to Bastion, who still beeps happily but has paused his story. Ganymede takes this moment to hop closer to Hanzo and chirp insistently at him. Hanzo frowns down at the bird for a moment, then, after a helpful beep from Bastion, says, “Ah, of course,” and retrieves the bag of bird seed to pour more out on the table for Ganymede. 

“You went into town?” Genji asks, eyeing the bag of bird seed, and Hanzo nods. “You went into town for seeds and tea?” 

“I had to run an errand anyway, so it was no trouble to purchase the seeds, as well,” he says, grateful that he had also purchased some materials to make more arrows so he could avoid lying. 

“And the tea?” Genji asks, and Hanzo narrows his eyes a little at his brothers tone--sort of hopeful and excited. 

“A gift.” 

“From?” Genji insists, leaning in a little, eyes wide. 

“Ms. Vaswani,” Hanzo says, and Bastion lets out a little beep of excitement at this. Both brothers turn to face the omnic, and it chirps out a few sounds that Hanzo quickly translates to something like that he is also friends with Ms. Vaswani and is delighted to hear she and Hanzo are getting along. 

When Hanzo turns back to his brother, he sees Genji smiling broadly, and he remembers this smile--like he’s planning something or worse, has already made his plan and the pieces are falling into place. 

“What?” Hanzo asks, voice a little rougher than intended, even as he tries to take stock of everything he’s done the past few weeks to determine where he could have stepped right into whatever Genji had planned. 

“When I first returned,” Genji says, leaning back on his hands and looking out at the garden, “I was not certain I would stay. My time with Blackwatch was...difficult. I was not close with anyone, and I worried I would have some difficulty feeling comfortable here. But they welcomed me with open arms, even when I was cold to them.” At this, he sends a pointed look at Hanzo, who only averts his gaze and sips his tea. Genji lets out a soft chuckle and looks back out at Bastion’s many plants. 

“It was the friends I made that kept me here. I am glad you are making friends here, too. Even if one of them is the only other person on this entire rock more unsociable and surly than you.” 

“Perhaps it is less that she is unsociable and more that you are simply too sociable,” Hanzo says, then sips his tea. 

“Rude!” Genji says, but he still laughs, and Hanzo smiles over his cup at his brother. 

It has been a while since Hanzo has made friends, and though he’s still a little wary of them, he supposes trying to make friends is not the worst thing. He relays this to his brother, who smiles at him. 

“I am glad you are making friends. You were lonely before you came here,” Genji says, and before Hanzo can argue this, he laughs and holds a hand up to stop his brother. “It is only natural. After all, you are only human,” Genji says, tapping the metal at his temple and grinning wildly. 

Hanzo rolls his eyes dramatically at his cyborg brother who, of course, has no trouble joking about his metal body, and this only makes Genji laugh harder. 

#

Bastion surprises Hanzo a few days later by arriving late to the garden. He waves behind him by way of explanation, and Hanzo follows the movement to see Ms. Vaswani close behind, peering around the garden curiously. Her gaze falls on Hanzo, and they exchange nods. They have run into each other occasionally since they first shared tea together a few days ago, and they both appreciate that the other does not feel the need to fill silence with meaningless conversation. 

Bastion produces an extra tea cup and sets it on the table, then lays out a blanket and motions for Ms. Vaswani to have a seat next to Hanzo. She humors the omnic, and Hanzo pours her some tea. 

The next time Hanzo goes to the garden, he finds Ms. Vaswani already there with a thermos of tea and an extra cup set out for him. Hanzo nods his thanks, takes a seat next to her and lets her pour tea for them both while he sets out some seeds for Ganymede. 

They build a routine without meaning to: Hanzo and Ms. Vaswani take turns preparing tea, and they always bring an extra cup for Ganymede’s water. They sit together, usually in silence, only exchanging occasional words between Bastions’ excited beeps. Ms. Vaswani will occasionally ask for silence when she needs it, and even Ganymede seems to respect this--the only sounds on those days are the gentle hums and whirrs of Bastion’s machinery and clinking of tea cups against the wooden table. 

Spending nearly every day with another person, even mostly in silence, provides ample opportunity to learn about them. Hanzo notices the first time Ms. Vaswani asks for quiet the way her hands tremble as she sits, as though she needs to move but doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t comment on this, and likewise, she doesn’t comment on the way Hanzo sometimes clenches his fists, glaring down at them, rubbing at his hands and arms as if there’s something on them he can’t clean off. Even Genji, when he sometimes joins them, respects these quiet days, and Hanzo once again reminds himself how perfectly normal this is. 

Hanzo notices, too, that Ms. Vaswani is most likely to ask for silence after a mission or long meeting, prefering to rest after interacting with others. 

Their time is no secret, and at some point, they have been spotted together in Bastion’s garden by almost every agent on base. No one seems to question it, except for the medic, Lucio, who narrows his eyes at Ms. Vaswani as he walks past, before throwing a suspicious look toward Hanzo. The second time Lucio sees them, he pauses, eyes shifting from Ms. Vaswani to Genji to Hanzo, and he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but Genji jumps up and walks over, saying he had been meaning to ask Lucio about his crossfade suit and leads him away. It is not very subtle, but it is still very kind, and this is more similar to the Genji of their childhood. But more tactful, Hanzo thinks, with a little smile. 

“He is wary of me due to my past association with Vishkar,” Ms. Vaswani says once Genji and Lucio disappear from view. 

“I see,” Hanzo says, aware of the DJ’s past with the company in Rio. 

“I once greatly admired the work they did. I thought they wanted to help, and I was willing to go to extreme measures to make sure Vishkar was able to achieve their goals.” 

“Do you regret the time you spent with them?” Hanzo asks, because she seems to want to speak about her experiences. 

“I do not know. I think I should regret it, but I cannot think that all the work I did with them was only bad. There was some good, I think. To create order from chaos--is that truly so wrong?” She shifts a little, adjusting her legs below her. 

“I have not known you long,” Hanzo says, “but I do not believe you would do something if you did not truly believe it was right.” 

“That is part of the problem, I think. I still believe in their original ideals to create order in the world, but I know now Vishkar was going about this the wrong way. While I was with them, I never once considered what we were doing may be seen as wrong by anyone. How can I know if those around me are being honest?” 

“That is very difficult, indeed. I have some experience being manipulated by those I thought I could trust, and I still find myself wondering how I could have let it happen.” He pauses for a moment, shakes his head. He does not want Ms. Vaswani to blame herself, and he needs to make that clear--this is no time to fall to the same old arguments in his head. “You are not your past. Your path is ahead of you--you seek redemption now. It is not unreasonable to remember the past and not know what to think about it. No one can erase the past. But you are doing good now. You are trying.” 

Ms. Vaswani smiles at him. “I suppose you are correct. Do you think of your past errors often, as well?” 

“Very often,” Hanzo admits. “But I have another chance to do right by my brother, and this time, I will not fail.” 

The conversation, when it picks up again, becomes lighter. Ms. Vaswani explains some of the technology she works on in her lab, reminisces about the wondrous technology from her old lab. Hanzo, in turn, tells her about the beauty of his home and how much he misses the cherry blossoms in the spring. 

#

Hanzo manages almost three full hours of sleep that night before he’s sitting up in his bed, glaring at everything in his room like these objects are what caused his nightmares. He calms his panting into more gentle breaths, then jumps up to wash the sweat from his face. 

At least this time, he can make sure the nightmare was only that, and he asks Athena if Genji is around. She tells him he’s in the game room, which is what everyone had started calling it once Agents D.Va and Lucio had gotten their hands on it, and it doesn’t even occur to him to ask if there might be anyone else in the room with his brother before Hanzo throws a loose tank top on, tightens the drawstring on his lounge pants, and rushes through the building to the large room. 

He’s already through the door before he registers the sounds--people talking, and the erratic and noisy sounds of a video game. Genji and Ms. Song both look up when Hanzo freezes in the doorway. 

All he really wanted was to see Genji with his own eyes--to remind himself he’s not really dead, that he’s more than the mess of blood and charred flesh he’d held in his arms so many years ago that he still sees too often when he closes his eyes. And once Hanzo lays eyes on his brother, he’s ready to retreat, but Genji is already on his feet, pulling Hanzo into the room, pushing him onto the couch. 

“Good evening, Ms. Song,” Hanzo says, and she grimaces. 

“Um no. Hana is fine. Or D.Va when we’re on assignment,” she says, but she keeps her eyes on Genji who retrieves a controller and shoves it in Hanzo’s hands. 

Hana eyes Hanzo suspiciously for a moment then smirks, and they start the game. Hanzo hasn’t played this exact game before, but he’s played various games with Genji enough to hold his own for a few minutes before Hana takes him out. Her ship targets Hanzo’s with its largest missiles, and Hanzo watches as his ship falls to the planet below before Hana goes after Genji. 

“You’re better than I thought you’d be,” Hana says, after she overtakes and destroys Genji’s ship. It doesn’t surprise Hanzo that Hana won--though he did think Genji would be able to put up a better fight. He only nods his head a little at her, but that seems to be enough to break the silence that had settled since he entered. As they start the next round, Hana and Genji are back to chatting animatedly while Hanzo only contributes to the conversation when directly addressed. 

They still somehow find the game paused not too long after Hanzo’s arrival as Genji and Hana argue about who’s the better shot. Genji finally turns to Hanzo, insisting he explain to Hana what an excellent shot he is and that he’d shoot better than Hana, even with her own gun. 

“I hardly see how this matters,” Hanzo says, then raises his voice a little to speak over Genji and Hana as they begin to argue again, “as I would do better than either one of you.” 

This shuts them both up as they stare at him, a small smile playing on his lips. Genji lets out a sudden bark of laughter, startling Hana, and then she joins in. 

“Fine!” she says, jumping to her feet. “Think you can keep up with me?” 

They abandon the video game then and make their way to the training room. After some deliberation, they decide to go alphabetically since they all need to take turns with Hana’s blaster. Genji steps up first and grins at the other two. 

He does fine, but it’s clear he’s out of practice with a gun. Hana beats his score easily and lets out a loud, victorious “hah! I’m number one!” before handing her gun to Hanzo. 

But Hanzo is not out of practice like Genji is, and even though a gun is not his weapon of choice, he knows it is better to be prepared for anything, and there have been many times over the years where a gun was his only option. It’s not by much, but he still manages to come out ahead of Hana when Athena happily rattles off the final scores. 

“As I said,” Hanzo says as he hands Hana her gun. He fixes them both with his most serious gaze, fighting the smile trying to make its way out at their aghast expressions. “Never second best.” 

The room falls entirely silent for a full breath before Genji and Hana both break out into delirious laughter. Hanzo smiles at them both, allowing himself only a muted chuckle. He lets himself feel relieved as he watches his brother’s shoulders shake and eyes tear up. 

“I had no idea you could be so much fun, old man,” Hana says when she’s finally able to talk through her laughter. “You always seem so serious.” 

“That’s just his face,” Genji says helpfully before Hanzo can respond. “He looks much scarier than he is.” 

#

After three days away from Gibraltar, Hanzo lets his feet lead him back to the garden as soon as he shoves his belongings into his quarters, instead of to the medbay where he would like to go. He meets Bastion and Ms. Vaswani there, and they both seem surprised to see him. He only nods a greeting, then takes his seat, keepings his eyes down. 

It was a quick mission--the kind Genji had called Hanzo to accompany him on many times over the past year while his involvement with Overwatch was a secret. It was simple and quick, and Hanzo could not help but blame himself for Genji’s injury. It was small--Dr. Ziegler had assured him she would need to keep him for less than an hour before gently shooing Hanzo away. But his brother’s blood on the ground was something he had hoped to never see again, and the image of deep red blood mixed with some sort of pale mechanical fluid in the dirt follows him into the garden. He appreciates their silence as he sips his tea. 

He appreciates their silence until he doesn’t. 

They probably do not blame him--they have no way of knowing what happened on the mission, and the logical part of Hanzo’s brain keeps trying to tell him he is not at fault. 

He spills his tea, and Bastion hops up from where he was caring for his plants to come closer and beep at Hanzo, asking if he’s okay. And then he cannot stop himself. The words spill from his lips before he fully realizes what he’s saying, but he tells them everything. Almost everything. He imagines they already have some idea of his history with his brother, and he does not insult their intelligence by recounting the many excuses Genji would make for his behavior about being controlled for so long by the clan. There is no excuse for his actions. 

He only tells them what he did, all those years ago, how he still sees his brother’s broken body whenever he closes his eyes. He admits that he only agreed to stay now out of selfishness--his brother has been so forgiving and welcoming and friendly, and it was everything Hanzo had wanted all those years when Genji was dead, and he hates himself for allowing himself even this much because he does not deserve to see his brother happy and smiling after what he’s done. 

Hanzo leans forward to place his elbows on the table then hide his face in his hands. He does not cry, but he feels the heavy weight of his own thoughts pool behind his eyes as he practically whines, “I cannot lose him again.” 

The metal hand on his shoulder is too heavy, but Hanzo looks up to see Bastion next to him, patting his shoulder comfortingly, and Hanzo all but melts into the gesture, allowing himself the comfort he so often denied himself. An odd feeling, to let a large omnic wrap him in an awkward hug, but a comforting one; Hanzo even appreciates the small gesture of Ganymede landing on his other shoulder and pressing into Hanzo’s neck. 

Hanzo pulls away after a moment with a quiet thanks. 

“You are not your past,” Ms. Vaswani says, and when Hanzo looks at her, she looks straight ahead, out at the garden in front of her or the sea beyond. “You are doing good now--you are trying.” 

The words startle him, and he feels his tense muscles relax slightly in the silence that follows. He takes a few minutes to compose himself before he feels he can speak again, and then he does not know what else to say. 

“Thank you,” Hanzo manages to say. 

Ms. Vaswani looks at him only long enough to nod and say, “Not at all, my friend.” Bastion echoes her sentiments in his cheerful beeps, and then they let silence fall around them again. 

#

The various missions slow down enough for Winston to call Hanzo to a meeting with Symmetra, Tracer, Lucio, McCree, and the vigilante Soldier 76. The scientist describes an upcoming fundraising event hosted by Lucheng Interstellar to help fund a new program, and the vigilante soldier has uncovered information suggesting there will be a Talon presence to attempt to gain favor with some of the higher-ups of Lucheng. Hanzo pays close attention to the briefing, pretending not to notice the way the cowboy seems to be watching him closely. His skin crawls under the scrutiny; his hand itches for his weapon. 

There may also be a Vishkar presence, Winston tells them, avoiding Ms. Vaswani’s gaze. The plan is for Hanzo and Symmetra to attend the party as guests and attempt to bug the attendees Athena’s algorithms flagged as most likely to be in communication with Talon while Tracer and Lucio, both too recognizable to go undercover, try to break in and get Athena a physical connection to something she can break into. 

“And what’ll I be up to?” McCree asks in his low drawl, leaning back in his. “I’d be downright delighted to chat up some fancy types.” 

Hanzo knows the cowboy must have some experience working undercover since he had spent so much time as a covert operative with Blackwatch, but he simply cannot imagine that the gunslinger, even at his best, would be able to pass for a socialite. 

“I think this mission requires a bit more, ah…” Winston trails off for a moment, clears his throat, “subtlety.” 

“You sayin’ I can’t be subtle?” McCree says, his spurs jingling as if to prove Winston’s point as he lowers his feet to the floor. 

“Athena and I agree,” Winston continues, ignoring McCree’s little outburst, “Agents Symmetra and Hanzo would make the most sense for this particular mission. They will attend the party as guests. Lucio and Lena will go along to try to infiltrate their computer system and to act as back-up if needed, and Jesse, you’ll attend the party as,” he turns away, lowers his voice. “Wait staff,” he mutters into his hand. 

After wasting nearly twenty minutes soothing the irate cowboy, assuring him this is the best way, they’re able to return to the mission at hand. Since Lucheng’s systems are too secure for Athena to break into remotely, they’ve decided to go about this “the old-fashioned way,” Winston explains as Ms. Vaswani retrieves several small devices from her desk nearby and places them in the center of the table. 

It hasn’t been so long since Hanzo has needed to place a bug on a mark, but the prospect of doing so to multiple targets in a crowded room gives him some pause. He ignores the low grumbles of the cowboy as Ms. Vaswani explains how the devices work, with a few interjections from Athena who simplifies some of the more complicated descriptions. They are not dissimilar to any other device Hanzo has used before, but seeing his friend speak so animatedly about her creations keeps him in his seat, listening closely. 

The meeting ends with a promise to meet again in two weeks to discuss any remaining details, but in the meantime, Winston asks if Hanzo would be willing to work with Agent Symmetra to help her learn a few tactics to place bugs without notice, and Hanzo agrees. McCree follows them out of the room as Soldier 76 offers his assistance, and Hanzo pretends not to notice the way the cowboy brushes a little too close to him, doesn’t comment on the sudden lightness in his pocket, only reaches his own hand out and lightly plucks the cowboy’s comm from his jeans. 

“I might be able to help, too,” the gunslinger says, flashing a wide grin as he produces Hanzo’s comm. The Soldier only shakes his head, but Hanzo’s expression does not change; he only reaches out to take his comm back. 

“Thank you for the offer, but we do not require your assistance.” 

“Got a lotta confidence in your skills, then?” McCree asks, eyes narrowed at Hanzo. 

“No more confidence than is warranted,” he says, holding out McCree’s comm. McCree looks at it, eyes wide, then reaches into his pocket to find it empty. 

“Well hot damn,” he says, frowning at his communicator. Hanzo does not have to say it for McCree to know that while the cowboy may have grabbed his comm, he did not escape notice while doing so. But Hanzo did. It is not a competition, but had it been, Hanzo would be the clear winner. 

Tracer lets out a barking laugh but slaps her hands over her mouth when McCree turns to glare at her. 

“This should work just fine,” Soldier 76 says, nodding at Hanzo, and Hanzo thinks he might detect the faintest trace of humor in the old soldier’s voice. 

They agree to meet the next morning to start their training, and they part ways. Hanzo does not acknowledge it when he feels the gunslinger watching his back as he walks away. But he can’t stop the muscles in his back from tightening, like they’re expecting a knife. 

Hanzo tells Ms. Vaswani he will meet her in the garden, and he makes a quick detour to his quarters. He takes a little extra time in solitude to breathe and force himself to relax now that he’s no longer under the cowboy’s scrutiny. He knows, of course, that the gunslinger and his brother knew each other in Blackwatch, and, were it not for even Dr. Ziegler’s quiet and tentative acceptance of him, would attribute this to the way the sharpshooter seems to keep his eyes on Hanzo whenever they’re in the same room. But no one would know better than the Doctor what Hanzo had truly done to his brother, and if even she could see fit to treat him if not friendly then at least cordially, he could not understand why the cowboy still seems to watch him like he’s a threat. Except, of course, that Hanzo is still a threat. 

He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts from his mind. Even with his brother’s forgiveness, Hanzo will always be a kinslayer, and he cannot fault any of his brother’s comrades for never being able to see past this. 

When he arrives at the garden, Ms. Vaswani is sitting quietly at the table, sipping her tea, a cup already poured for Hanzo. He nods his thanks to her then a greeting to Bastion who beeps a quick, cheerful hello. Hanzo takes his seat next to Ms. Vaswani and places a stack of small, square papers on the table between them. When Ganymede flies over and chirps curiously, Hanzo lets the little bird land on his shoulder and even takes his hair down out of its bun to give the bird a little blanket of warmth. 

Hanzo then takes one sheet and makes slow, careful folds. 

Ms. Vaswani watches closely as he folds and creases, turns and molds the paper. After a few quiet minutes with only the rustling of leaves and Hanzo’s paper folding to disrupt the silence, he pushes the finished product along the table to her. A lotus. Not terribly fancy but still pretty. And symmetrical. 

He pulls another paper from the stack between them, pauses with it in front of him, glances over at her, gives a small nod. Ms. Vaswani takes a sheet with trembling fingers and places it in front of her on the table. Hanzo goes through the folds again, slower this time, so she can follow along. Origami had never come up in their few conversations, so he does not know whether or not she’s done it before. Either way, though, he finds himself unsurprised to see her exact folds, perfect creases, entirely symmetrical finished result on what could very well be her first try. She inspects her lotus closely, holding it in front of her face, turning it this way and that. She nods after a moment, showing her satisfaction, then reaches for another sheet. 

She pauses, waits for Hanzo, and he grabs another sheet, walks her through the motions again. And again. And again. 

The next time he reaches for his tea, it’s cold, and he can’t help but smile at the dozens of paper flowers they’ve created together. He tops off his tea from the thermos, attempting to warm it up a little, does the same for Ms. Vaswani, and she seems surprised when he reaches for her forgotten mug. 

Still, they don’t finish their tea until they’ve made their way through the stack of paper. 

Forty sheets, Hanzo thinks--he had counted them out, knowing his friend would not have wanted an odd amount--became forty flowers in orange and blue and red and purple. He went with the solid-colored papers instead of the ones that had gradients or random designs because he didn’t want to upset the balance. 

They stay longer than they normally do, the time passing quickly as they work, and after they finish their tea, Bastion helps Hanzo and Ms. Vaswani carry the flowers back inside. They follow her to her quarters, and Bastion and Hanzo wait outside while she carries an armful at a time inside. When Ms. Vaswani tries to hand Hanzo one, he holds his hand up, as if to tell her to keep it. She offers one to Bastion, who happily accepts it. Satya smiles, and then frowns as she looks at the others, and this time, Hanzo plucks one from the others still in Ms. Vaswani’s hands to keep for himself. So she has an even amount. Her smile turns on him, grateful, and he nods. 

“Good evening,” Ms Vaswani says, the first words she’s spoken since the meeting earlier, and Hanzo smiles as Bastion beeps and chirps eagerly, telling her how much he loves the flower and wishing her a good evening and becoming too distracted by the many other things he’s wanted to say all day now that he’s able to tell her. Hanzo sets a gentle hand on the omnic’s arm to calm him down, and Bastion’s beeps become sheepish before he wishes her a good evening again. 

Hanzo gives her a slight bow. “Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Vaswani.” 

She hesitates for a moment, then returns his bow. 

“Please,” she says, “call me Satya.” 

Hanzo smiles at her then, and even his hand on Bastion’s arm can’t calm the omnic’s excited beeps. 

“Have a pleasant evening, Satya,” Hanzo says, and she nods while Hanzo pulls the excited omnic away to give Satya some quiet. 

Bastion beeps happily at Hanzo’s side, and Hanzo nods along with a small smile while the omnic describes all the places in his quarters that might be a good spot for the little origami lotus. 

#

The next morning, Satya greets Hanzo in the kitchen with a nod, makes her tea and sits across from him at the table. They ignore the glances from the others, watching the two quiet loners sit together in silence. Hanzo waits until they finish their breakfast before speaking. 

“Are you ready to train?” he asks, his already-deep voice lower than usual, pitched quiet and soft for her. 

“Yes,” she says, then, “thank you.” 

Hanzo only nods, then gathers their dishes to wash them while Satya stays seated. When he finishes, he moves to the door, and she rises to join him. They make their way to the training room together with Soldier 76 following close behind. 

Hanzo finds it difficult to focus with Lucio throwing Satya dirty looks from where he and Hana stand and chat and only occasionally shoot their weapons down the range. Even with the looks directed elsewhere, he feels the intensity of them on his back, especially when he moves to block Satya from his view. 

She struggles a little with the exercise, despite the soldier’s excellent advice. It’s clear, though, that it is less a matter of not understanding what she should be doing and more that she does not seem to want to touch either of them. He should have expected this. In the few weeks they’ve spent together in the garden, he had distantly registered that she naturally tends to put more space than necessary between herself and others. It would be difficult to place a bug without being willing to brush shoulders or bump into someone, but not impossible. Still, they make very little progress, and Satya huffs out a frustrated breath as she struggles. 

“Perhaps we should take a short break,” Hanzo suggests after another failed attempt by Satya to sneak a bug into his pocket. She nods and immediately turns away to take a seat at the edge of the room. 

Hanzo meets Soldier 76’s eyes--or rather, he meets the visor of the soldier’s mask and hopes the vigilante understands the slight raise of his eyebrows and the tilt of his head toward the young DJ. Soldier 76 seems to watch Hanzo for a moment, then turns to look at Lucio, still glaring at Satya, then looks back at Hanzo and nods. The soldier manages to convince Lucio to speak with him outside, and they don’t return even at the end of the break. 

When Hanzo and Satya start again, the training goes much more smoothly with Lucio out of the room, even when Hana inserts herself into the training after loudly deciding she needs to know how to plant bugs, as well. She’s a quick study, and she doesn’t mind bumping into people or playing up her age and size to appear innocent and contrite, and she manages to plant the bug more often and more successfully than Satya, who barely manages to hide her distaste throughout the exercise. 

Hanzo does not turn to look when the door to the training room opens behind him, or when the loud report of a gun interrupts the relative silence of their training a few minutes later, even when he feels eyes on his back. 

He doesn’t need to look--the smell of cigarillos and sandalwood gives the cowboy away, and Hanzo forces himself not to tense up when he feels the sharpshooter’s eye track his movements as he helps Satya and Hana practice planting their bugs. 

When they agree to end for the day and continue the next morning, Hanzo lets out a heavy sigh then quickly composes himself to nod encouragingly at Satya when her eyes snap to his face. They leave the training room together, leaving Hana to badger the cowboy into showing her some moves. And even though the gunslinger responds to Hana, jokes with her, keeps his gun pointed down range, Hanzo can feel the cowboy’s eyes on him until he’s outside. 

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, Genji’s voice reminds Hanzo in his mind. Hanzo hopes he does not have to make the entire journey with a cowboy aiming a weapon at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And thank you for all the kind and supportive words on the first chapter! Your comments made me so happy, and I love that so many of you love Bastion, too! I'll try to do the character justice.
> 
> This whole part was originally supposed to be much shorter--I was going to do another chapter that was half from Hanzo's perspective and half from McCree's, but then I just kept writing and it got so long so I cut out all the stuff from McCree and now that will be the next chapter. On the bright side, that means the next update should be soon because the next chapter is mostly written already. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree is bothered by the appearance of Hanzo's old friends, and the gunslinger finally learns why Hanzo avoids him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is unbeta'd, so if you see any errors, please let me know! :]   
> And thank you for reading!

 

As Genji and McCree walk back to the main building from the training range, Genji hesitates for a step, looking past McCree, then continues walking quickly. But McCree still whips around to look and sees Hanzo sitting at the low table in the garden with Vaswani and Bastion, which isn’t so unusual. McCree doesn’t pause his steps, but he squints a little, trying to figure out what they’re doing at the table, and it takes longer than he would ever admit to register that they’re folding paper.

_ Origami? _ He thinks, and he turns back to Genji, who only shrugs. McCree turns back to the group, and this time, he does stop walking as Bastion finishes his project and holds it up for Hanzo and Vaswani to inspect. From this distance, it looks like little more than crumpled paper, but Hanzo handles like it’s the most valuable thing he’s ever held, turns it over in his hands, examines every inch of it, then hands it back with a nod and a small smile and gentle eyes, and McCree feels his breath catch in his throat. 

And then Hanzo’s eyes meet his across the distance, and that smile falls away into the impassive mask which falls away into a look too sharp for someone who’d just been lit up like a sunrise and McCree has to remind himself that looks can’t actually kill and force himself to move his feet and fall back into step next to Genji. 

_ Could slit a throat with those eyes _ , McCree can’t help but think, and then, as he glances back over his shoulder to meet the archer’s eyes again,  _ could think of worse ways to go. _

Once they’re back inside the main building and away from anyone who might hear, McCree finally asks what he’s been thinking for weeks.

“Why’s your brother avoidin’ me?” 

“What do you mean?” Genji asks, voice too level, like he knows exactly what McCree means and only wants to make him say it. 

“I feel like he makes it a point not to look at me, an’ he seems to turn tail and run anytime we end up alone together,” McCree says, fiddling with a cigarillo out of habit even though he won’t light it inside. “He was real skittish last year--didn’t seem to talk to anyone. But I see him with Bastion and Vaswani all the time. I even see him with Hana sometimes, and she’s not known for givin’ people quiet. Hell, I saw ‘im chattin’ with Reinhardt the other day.” 

“Is there a particular reason you wish to speak with him?” 

“Nah,” McCree says, waving his hand as if to dismiss the conversation, but he continues anyway. “Just, ya know. I tried to be friendly last time, too, and he wasn’t havin’ it. Just wonderin’ what I did that makes him avoid me more than anyone else.”

“Perhaps it would be wise to figure out why it bothers you so much that he speaks to others and not to you,” Genji says, and McCree raises his eyebrows at the humor in his friend’s voice. But he doesn’t respond because Ana’s voice chimes in then, like she’s finishing Genji’s thought:  _ Take care to do so before it is too late.  _

McCree doesn’t know how long he stands there, wondering why Ana’s words popped into his head, before Genji speaks again, his voice farther away than McCree expects. 

“How do you know he never looks at you unless it is because you are always looking at him?”

“What?” McCree asks, but when he turns to look at his friend, Genji is already gone.

#

A week later, McCree is relieved to learn Hanzo’s avoidance of him doesn’t extend to missions. Hanzo disengages from the small group of people he’d been talking with when McCree gets close and reaches for a drink from McCree’s tray while pushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear to disguise the movement of clicking on his comm’s voice channel.

“Agent Symmetra, I’m going to bring you one of the targets. A scientist. She’s struggling to make conversation; it seems she would rather be back in her lab than here. I think you will have better luck with her than I. It will be a little while; I’ll try to warn you when we make our way over,” Hanzo says, speaking quickly and quietly, looking to an outsider as if he were making small talk with McCree while grabbing his drink. He brushes the loose strand of hair again, clicking the voice channel off, then turns back to the party, all without ever looking at McCree, whose gaze follows Hanzo back to the group he’d walked away from. 

Sure enough, one of the women seems very awkward, only responding to direct questions and not joining the conversation otherwise. Hanzo says something the other two in the group chuckle at, and they nod and look around for a moment before walking off together.

McCree can’t help but follow Hanzo with his eyes and mark the differences he sees in him while he makes easy conversation and inserts himself into conversations with the quiet confidence of a man who knows no one will turn him away. Back at the base, he’s a shadow--he can go days hidden away in that base that shouldn’t be large enough for someone to hide in--but here, with all these strangers getting up to dirty deeds because they have the money to protect themselves, he’s damn social butterfly.

Hanzo glances over his shoulder and meets McCree’s gaze, raises a single eyebrow at him, then turns his attention to the scientist next to him and makes a quiet comment. The archer makes a show of looking around the room, then turns his easy smile on the scientist, who lets Hanzo lead her gently away. McCree doesn’t see the movement, despite how closely he’s watching, but Hanzo manages to click on his comm again.

“I would be happy to introduce you; I think the two of you would have much to discuss,” Hanzo’s voice comes over the comm, his warning to Symmetra. 

The woman’s mumbled response is too quiet for the comm to pick up, but Hanzo’s throaty chuckle comes through. 

“I think you--,” Hanzo starts, but another voice cuts him off, loud and close enough for Hanzo’s comm to pick him up. 

“Hello there.” The voice is deep and smooth and laced with something like humor. 

McCree looks over and sees Hanzo’s back tense, shoulders drawn up in surprise. 

“You need a hand there, Shimada?” McCree asks, continuing his round across the room but keeping an eye on the archer. 

“Ah, Miss Vaswani is right over there,” Hanzo says, pointing her out to the scientist, now looking back and forth between Hanzo and the new stranger. The scientist nods, though, seeming to understand she’s being dismissed and walks off.

“Shimada?” McCree repeats. 

Hanzo reaches up and turns off his comm’s voice channel, not bothering to hide the movement. 

McCree looks closer, sees the stranger follow the movement with a wide grin. The man looks familiar as he crowds into Hanzo’s space, all large, taut muscles and smooth, dark skin, but McCree is at an odd angle and can’t see much of his face other than the red cybernetic enhancements at his temples.

McCree returns his attention to serving drinks, since Hanzo obviously doesn’t want help--maybe this was someone he knew from his life as a mercenary, but as long as the stranger didn’t blow Hanzo’s cover, he was no concern of McCree. Still, though, McCree finds himself constantly looking back at Hanzo and the stranger as he makes his way around the room, especially when the man pulls Hanzo onto the small dance floor toward the side of the large room.

McCree, too curious to resist, brings his tray of drinks to the people on that side of the room to get closer and try to listen in. Just to make sure his colleague doesn’t need back up. He tips a glass of champagne at a table near where Hanzo is dancing so he can linger to clean it up, facing the dance floor. 

“I hope your new friends are treating you well,” the stranger says in his deep, silky voice, raising a hand to trace along Hanzo’s cheek, his fingers moving close to the comm in Hanzo’s ear. 

“Better than I deserve, in some cases,” Hanzo says, and his eyes briefly meet McCree’s over the stranger’s shoulder. “As well as I deserve, in others.” He takes a step back with the music to pull his face away from the man’s hand. The man pulls him closer again but places his hand on Hanzo’s waist. 

“I would treat you better, you know,” the man says, voice heavy with suggestion.

“Yes,” Hanzo says, in his usual slow, deep voice. Unaffected, unimpressed. “I know you would think so.” 

The man laughs a deep throaty laugh, and then they are dancing too far for McCree to hear more, so he busies himself with passing out drinks and keeping an eye on Agent Symmetra who somehow manages to keep a revolving group of conversation partners enraptured even while looking like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. 

McCree lets his attention wander between the two agents in the room while Hanzo continues wasting everyone’s time enjoying himself with his dance partner and Symmetra manages to place bugs on two more targets.

McCree wants to hop on the line to congratulate her, but before he can, Hanzo’s voice comes on to reveal he’s been compromised and can no longer assist with the mission. He doesn’t provide more details, and McCree looks around the room and realizes he’s lost sight of the archer and his new (or old?) friend. 

“I’ll take care of the last bug,” McCree says, and then, “You need assistance, Shimada?” 

“No,” he responds, his voice tight. Then after a long moment, “Yes. Could I bother you to retrieve my bow for me?” 

“Trouble?” McCree asks as he turns to the out of the way and largely unnoticed utility closet where the bow is stashed. 

“Perhaps, but I do not think it is pressing. I--” 

McCree suppresses a flinch when Hanzo’s coughing fills his head through the voice channel, but it doesn’t last long before Hanzo’s muffled voice comes back on the line. “Stay clear of the south balcony,” he says. 

McCree grabs the instrument case holding Hanzo’s bow and skirts the edges of the room, careful to keep attention away from himself as he makes his way quickly to the south balcony. As soon as he opens the glass door, he finds himself pulled roughly through, the door shutting hard behind him and cloth pressed against his face. He only has time to bring his hand up to grasp the wrist of the person holding the cloth to his face before he realizes it’s Hanzo. 

“I said to stay clear,” Hanzo says, voice muffled through the cloth he holds to his own face. McCree looks down and eyes the gold ribbon in the archer’s hands then back up at Hanzo. 

“There was a venom mine--poison gas,” Hanzo says curtly, then eyes the guitar case at McCree’s feet where he dropped it when he moved to defend himself. “Hold this,” he says, pressing his fingers into McCree’s lips to indicate the cloth, and after some shuffling, Hanzo manages to press a handkerchief to his own face while McCree holds onto the ribbon that McCree finally places as the one Hanzo used to wear in his hair before the undercut. He’d only seen him with it a few times last year, before his makeover, and McCree is surprised at himself for remembering it. 

Hanzo, unaware of McCree’s racing thoughts, starts rummaging through the instrument case to retrieve his weapon.

“Don’t lose that,” Hanzo says, nodding at the ribbon in McCree’s hands, as he works his bow out of its case one-handed.

“Where are you going?” McCree asks, finally finding his voice. 

“There is a sniper,” he says, and then before McCree can interject, “leave her to me.” 

Before McCree can say more, Hanzo pushes past him, inhales a deep breath, puts his handkerchief away and then scales the wall next to the glass door. McCree watches him go until the archer disappears over the edge of the next balcony, several floors up. 

_ Like hell I’m sittin’ this out _ , he thinks, barking a message over the comm for Symmetra to keep herself hidden and for Lúcio and Tracer to start packing things in. 

He keeps to the edges of the room again, grateful that the fancy folks still mingling won’t spare him a second glance with his uniform on, and he makes it out of the ballroom and to the stairs quickly, then takes them two at a time before quietly opening the door to the floor where he hopes to find Hanzo and the sniper, Peacekeeper already in his hand. 

“Do you think you could shoot before I could?” A familiar female voice purrs, though McCree can’t tell where the voice is coming from. He whips around, gun held out and ready to fire before realizing there’s no one there. The words weren’t directed at him. He keeps walking toward where he thinks he’ll find the pair on a large balcony.

“I would wager my bow against your rifle any day,” Hanzo says, his voice surprisingly light--like he’s rehashing an old bet with a friend and not facing down a dangerous sniper.  _ Widowmaker _ , McCree thinks, as the pieces--Talon presence, venom mine, familiar voice--fall together in his head. 

“That would be the last mistake you ever made,” she says, but her voice, too, is unexpectedly light. 

McCree shuffles quietly around the large open area, trying to get the two assassins in his sight without giving away his position, surprised at the lack of sound--no gunshot, no bowstring released--as the minutes pass. He finally spots them, standing just far enough apart that they need to raise their voices a little to be heard, both with weapons aimed and ready to fire. 

He sees both snipers tense at the same time, and he watches as Hanzo grimaces, then both of them fire at once. 

Hanzo’s arrow plants in Widowmaker’s shoulder, and she curses, even as Hanzo does the same, moving his hand to his own shoulder. 

McCree finally steps out from his cover, Peacekeeper raised and trained on Widowmaker, who only glances at him before reaching behind her, shooting a grappling hook, and disappearing into the night. 

After a few quiet comments back and forth through the comm, the group decides to call it a night. McCree helps Hanzo retrieve the guitar case to hide his equipment, and then they walk out together, Hanzo leaning into McCree as if he were drunk to hide his wound and McCree doing his level best to ignore the solid warmth and the heady smell of sweat and blood mingling with cologne from the man leaning against him. 

Hanzo manages to keep his face composed until they exit the building, and then he immediately pulls away from McCree with a wince, keeping one hand pressed over the wound in his shoulder. 

“All right there, archer?” McCree asks.

“I will live,” he says, his voice surprisingly level for a man with a gunshot wound. 

Lúcio meets them outside and confirms Hanzo’s assessment, assuring everyone the bullet hit nothing critical. A lucky miss, Lúcio tells them. Or a very good hit, McCree thinks. 

Lúcio makes quick work of patching Hanzo up back on the ship while they wait for Tracer to escort Vaswani back. With the threat of Widowmaker, they don’t want to leave anyone vulnerable. Not two minutes after making it to the ship, Tracer has them in the air. As soon as the medic declares Hanzo stable, he gives himself some privacy to call Mercy and have her prep the medbay for Hanzo, who leans his head back in his seat, eyes closed as he lets Lúcio’s healing music wash over him, but McCree can tell from his short breaths and his clenched fist he isn’t asleep. Vaswani sits beside him, back tense, reading something from a holopad. 

_ He knows Widowmaker _ , McCree thinks, remembering their light, almost teasing voices on the roof. 

He’d never personally had a run-in with the woman since she became the dangerous sniper, but he knew enough from other’s reports to know that she’d never been anything but completely cold. Part of whatever Talon had done to her, they’d surmised, had left her unable to feel much of anything. But she’d seemed almost relaxed on the roof. Like they were old friends.

“Must have felt just like old times, eh, Shimada?” McCree asks, and Hanzo’s head snaps up so the archer can fix McCree in his steely gaze. He doesn’t respond, so McCree continues. “Before the shootin’, I mean. Fancy party, fancy clothes, fancy friends. Must feel awful  _ familiar _ ,” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively, trying to convey his curiosity. And judgment.  

Hanzo’s shoulders rise a little as he tenses, but he keeps McCree fixed in that heavy stare long enough for McCree to forget his question--and then he forgets how to breathe. Hanzo takes long enough to respond that an awkward silence settles in the transport before Hanzo finally says, barely more than a whisper, “Just so.” 

He stands too quickly then and makes his way to the table at the other end of the ship, a little unsteady on his feet. Hanzo places one hand over his injury, like he could will it to stop hurting while he fiddles with something in the center of the table then takes a seat and stares at a holopad in his hands. Vaswani rises to her feet, and McCree turns to look at her and shrinks a little under the unfriendliness of her face. She looks at him like he’s a bug she can’t even bother with enough to squash, and he realizes he’s never seen her look at anything or anyone--even Lúcio--with this much disdain. 

“You should not discuss matters of which you know nothing,” she says, her voice heavy with disapproval. 

“What do you mean?” McCree asks, more because he’s surprised the woman spoke at all than because he wants to know. 

She presses her lips together for a moment, glaring at him. “It is not my place to tell stories that are not my own,” she says, shaking her heard. “But perhaps you should consider there is more going on than you realize.” She looks as if she wants to say something more, but instead, she simply shakes her head and walks over to join Hanzo.

McCree wonders what story there is to be told, and when he looks over at Hanzo again, he sees the archer’s slightly slumped shoulders relaxing back into their usual place as Vaswani’s presence seems to have a comforting effect on him. 

That wasn’t real fair of him, he thinks--too many of them have history of Widowmaker, so it shouldn’t feel like some sort of betrayal that Hanzo knows her, too.

Still, he can’t help but narrow his eyes at the archer, watching him sink back into his seat like he hadn’t faced down a sniper and taken a bullet only a few hours ago.  

_ Well damn _ , McCree finds himself thinking as he studies the entirely unaffected profile of the archer.  _ Now that’s what I call composure _ .  

Hanzo is ushered to medbay as soon as the ship touches down, and a few short hours later, McCree receives a notification from Winston to meet in his lab for a debrief. 

During the debrief, Hanzo confirms there was a Talon presence, and Winston nods and pulls up information about Doomfist and Widowmaker. 

McCree already knew about Widowmaker, but it’s Doomfist who catches his eye--the towering, muscular man with red cybernetic enhancements, and then his eyes turn on Hanzo. 

“Ain’t that the fella you were dancin’ with?” McCree asks before he can stop himself. 

Hanzo only nods, as if McCree hadn’t just accused him of literally dancing with the enemy. 

“You were  _ dancing _ with  _ Doomfist _ ?” Tracer asks incredulously, her eyes wide. 

Winston manages to reign the meeting back in after that, assuring everyone that he’s on top of the situation and that there’s nothing for anyone to be concerned about. Symmetra seems entirely unbothered by the fact that her friend seems to know Doomfist personally, but the rest of them keep throwing Hanzo looks until Winston finally ends the meeting. 

As soon as the meeting ends, the group leaves, and McCree is positively itching for a chance to get Hanzo alone and ask him what the hell is going on. But Genji was waiting outside the door, and as soon as Hanzo walks out, Genji asks his brother to join him from a walk, and they depart together. 

#

After seeing neither hide nor hair of the elusive archer for three days, McCree is granted another opportunity to corner Hanzo when he walks into the kitchen close to 2 am and finds Hanzo brewing tea. Hanzo doesn’t acknowledge McCree’s presence outside of a tensing of his muscles.

“Evenin’,” McCree says, and Hanzo nods his head but doesn’t look at McCree. 

McCree moves closer to fiddle with the coffee maker next to the stove, and Hanzo takes a step to the side, putting more space between them. 

“You’re up late,” McCree says into the silence between them, instead of  _ you and that Doomfist sure seemed awfully close _ .

“As are you,” Hanzo says. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Got a lot on my mind.”  _ Like how it is you seem to be on friendly terms with two members of an organization that wants us all dead. _

“Hm.” 

When his water is ready, Hanzo pours it into two cups. He swiftly wipes down the area he used of the kitchen then dips into the pantry to retrieve a bag of chips while McCree frowns at the coffee maker, willing it to go faster or just break so he can follow the archer if he moves to escape. 

_ Somethin’ we need to know to avoid gettin’ caught in the crossfire? _ McCree wants to ask. 

“So you, uh… had a separate debrief with Winston,” he says instead, because at least this much he’d managed to figure out from how well-informed and calm Winston had seemed about the whole Doomfist situation.

Hanzo sighs, crosses his arms over his chest, and turns to face McCree. 

“It would be easier, I think, if you would simply ask.”

“Thought I just did, partner,” McCree says, eyebrows turning down in confusion. 

McCree would think Hanzo’s annoyed from his crossed arms, but there’s nothing else in his expression or body language that gives him away--same impassive face, same carefully-controlled muscles. 

“I know that is not the question you want to me to answer, but I cannot provide an answer to a question I do not know. So ask.” 

_ How can we trust you when you seem to know Doomfist? What exactly is your relationship with him? To Talon? Are you going to betray us? What the hell are you doing here? _ He wants to ask, but all he manages is a simple “Doomfist.” 

Hanzo blinks slowly at him, leans back a little and tilts his head to the side, and McCree worries for a moment he actually asked all those questions out loud because Hanzo seems to be considering each one of them as he stares at McCree with those deep brown eyes. 

“Widowmaker,” Hanzo says after a long silence. 

It’s...a better answer than McCree would like to admit. A single word--a name--but it carried an answer to each of McCree’s silent questions with a new one:  _ How is it any different? _ McCree isn’t sure who told Hanzo about Widowmaker’s history with Overwatch, but he finds it doesn’t surprise him that the archer knows. 

_ It sure as hell seems different _ , he wants to say. “What are you doin’ up so late?” 

“Drinking tea,” Hanzo says, and at this, he balances the bag of chips and the two tea cups in his hands and leaves. 

McCree dumps not nearly as much coffee as he’d like into his cup and hurries after. He follows Hanzo to the game room, where Hana and Genji are competing in what seems to be, from their intense argument, a very closely-tied game. Hanzo sets one of the cups of tea down next to Genji, the chips next to Hana, then takes a seat on the couch behind them, retrieving a holopad. He places it in his lap and starts reading, not acknowledging McCree, who takes a seat on the same couch. 

The two gamers eventually greet McCree between matches, and he nods back at them, letting his gaze drift between their game on the screen and the assassin on the couch next to him. It doesn’t surprise McCree to see the grim set of the archer’s lips or the slight downturn to his eyebrows because this seems to be his usual expression, but there’s something slightly different about it McCree can’t quite place. Not as unreadable as usual. McCree thinks he recognizes that soft shadow of a look: exhausted, and not due to the late hour. 

McCree realizes he’s been staring when Hanzo stands suddenly, wishes everyone a good evening and departs. It’s said with the same amount of disinterest as almost everything McCree has ever heard him say, and he thinks maybe that shadow of emotion he thought he’d seen across the archer’s face was simply his imagination. The assassin’s as unaffected as ever.

“Ah, wait,” Hana calls after him, pausing the game. “I wanted to ask you something.” They leave the room together, leaving Genji and McCree together, and Genji immediately turns to face his friend. 

“I am surprised to see you with my brother.”

“We ran into each other in the kitchen,” McCree says. Genji hums at this, then settles into his seat, watching McCree. McCree decides he won’t let this work on him. He can bluff as well as the next guy--hell, he can do it better. He just has to sit in silence and not reveal that of course there’s more on his mind and of course Genji would be the perfect person to ask. He’ll let it go. 

“How can you trust him?” McCree asks. Well, he decides, he has questions, and Genji likely has answers. This isn’t a loss. 

“This is about Doomfist, I take it?” 

“I know there’s more to the story than what he told,” McCree says.

“There is, but” Genji says, before McCree can ask him to share it, “it is not my story to tell.” 

“So I’m supposed to just trust him?” 

“I would not ask you to blindly trust someone you do not know,” Genji says, surprising McCree. “But I know the story, and I trust him. I’m asking you to trust  _ me _ .” 

“Yeah, but--”

“He is trying, McCree. But if you treat Hanzo like a threat, then you will see every action he takes as threatening. Just the other day, you seemed to want to get to know him better. I think if you do, you will see he is no threat to anyone here. He is a man with a complicated history. As am I. As are you.” 

McCree opens his mouth to respond, but Hana sweeps back into the room then, takes her seat and starts the game back up almost immediately, so Genji has to scramble back to his controller to keep up, laughing the whole time. And McCree can’t help but admit that damn cyborg is right. 

#

Genji makes it sound so reasonable--how you treat him will determine how he reacts to you, and it’s so obvious then.

_ “You can’t keep watching my boy like that,” Gabe had said, practically growled, at Jack, and McCree froze, sure they hadn’t seen him and surer still he shouldn’t be hearing this conversation.  _

_ “Your boy?”  _

_ “You know what I mean. He’s Blackwatch--he’s not one of yours, and you can’t keep watching him like you’re just waiting for him to fuck up.” _

_ “Of course I’m watching him,” Jack says, voice raising, “at best, he’s a flight risk, at worst--” _

_ “Even at his worst, he’s one of mine, and you need to back off.”  _

_ McCree imagined if he rounded the corner, he’d see the two of them standing too close, trying to tower over the other intimidatingly like they did when they were scolding others. They were too similar for it to work on each other, and they were both too stubborn to ever admit to that. _

_ McCree managed to shove his curiosity down far enough to allow him to slip away before they stormed out of the office and caught him eavesdropping, and he made his way quickly to the shooting range where Captain Amari waited for him.  _

_ McCree was an excellent shot, but his mind was on the argument he’d overheard. It didn’t surprise him that Jack didn’t like him. But it did surprise him, maybe a little, to hear Gabe defend him so fiercely.  _

_ It didn’t matter, he told himself, trying to bring his attention back to his target, even as Captain Amari sighed at his missed shots. He was only here because he was a good shot. It was just another job he got himself trapped in, and it didn’t matter if that damn Jack hated him. He could hate Jack just as much. If he cared to.  _

_ The man in question appeared then, at the edge of McCree’s vision, taking a spot behind someone else training in the range to give pointers. Ana’s voice snaps McCree out of his own head, and he realized he’d been staring. _

_ “Mind that aim, cowboy,” she said, her voice heavy with disapproval. And something else, too--like humor.  _

_ McCree looked at his weapon, still aimed down the range at his target, and he lowered his gun and turned to face Ana.  _

_ “I was aimin’ just fine,” he said.  _

_ “You were aiming your gun, yes,” she said, then lowered her voice, leaned in a little closer and tapped one finger against her cheek under her right eye. “But that’s not your only weapon, is it?”  _

_ “I was just--” _

_ “You were keeping your eye on your target,” she said, cutting him off. She stood up to her full height, which was up to McCree’s chin, and crossed her arms over her chest. She still managed to make him feel small, even though she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Mind where you aim your weapon,” she says again. “If you look too long at people the way you look at targets, then eventually, they will become targets.” _

#

McCree knows enough to never expect to find himself completely alone on base, but he’s still surprised someone else had the same idea to work off their frustration at not being able to sleep in the shooting range at 3am. He sees a light on but doesn’t hear the sound of gunshots, and even though he knows the base is secure--as secure as it can be--it doesn’t stop the caution that causes him to slow his steps and draw Peacekeeper, letting the comforting feel of metal fill his flesh hand. 

He rounds the corner to see Hanzo in a tight tank top and loose lounge pants. McCree hasn’t seen him since their run-in three nights ago, and somehow the sight of his muscles dancing under tight fabric brings McCree up short. He loosens his grip on his gun but keeps his eyes on Hanzo as he lands several impressive shots in a row. McCree wants to be annoyed with the archer still, and he can’t help but be wary, no matter what Genji said. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make nice. It occurs to McCree that he’s had to remind himself of that several times since Hanzo first appeared, but he pushes the thought out of his mind and takes a few steps farther into the training room.

“Pretty handy with that bow,” McCree says. 

Hanzo only nods; he doesn’t even turn to look at him, like he already knew McCree was standing there watching him. 

“Mind if I join you, darlin’?” 

McCree sees the smallest movement--a slight tensing of muscles in Hanzo’s back, before Hanzo releases his arrow, turns the tiniest bit to bring McCree into his line of sight, then motions out at the room as if to say “there’s plenty of space; help yourself.” 

_ This is him tryin’? _ McCree can’t help but think, remembering his last conversation with Genji about the quiet archer. 

He takes a spot a few lanes down from Hanzo and lets himself focus on the target ahead. His head isn’t in it, but he’s an excellent shot. He’s not shooting his best, but he still manages well enough that if he wanted to compare scores, he’d probably still be doing better than a lot of the others on base. He keeps Peacekeeper trained on the target but pauses to let his eyes wander over to Hanzo, who immediately tenses, arrow ready but held firm. 

“Reckon I owe you an apology,” McCree says, when Hanzo doesn’t let the nocked arrow fly. 

Hanzo lowers his bow, retrieves the arrows in his target and places them carefully in his quiver without ever acknowledging McCree’s words. 

McCree sets Peacekeeper down and steps back a little to put himself in Hanzo’s way--not completely blocking his exit, but in his way enough that Hanzo has to pause and look at him. And he does, eyebrows raised in question or surprise, lips pressed down in that little frown he always seems to wear. 

“You owe me nothing,” Hanzo says finally, when McCree doesn’t move out of his way. 

“Hold on now,” McCree says, putting his hands up to show he’s harmless. “I do somethin’ to you? You always seem to be in a rush to leave whenever I’m around.” 

Hanzo lets out a little huff like he’s annoyed or impatient, an unfamiliar sound McCree decides immediately he wouldn’t mind hearing again.

“Is that really so surprising?” Hanzo asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“Wha--of course it is. What’d I do that makes you want to run off so damn bad?” McCree asks before Jack’s voice fills his head, entirely unwelcome:  _ he’s a flight risk _ . McCree takes a step back, relaxes his shoulders, tries to make himself stand the way he normally would instead of like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. 

Hanzo shakes his head, sighs, then fixes McCree with his heavy stare. 

“The rule with most weapons is the same: you do not aim at something you do not wish to shoot,” Hanzo says, and then, as if that were enough to end the conversation, he steps carefully around McCree and begins to walk out, even as McCree huffs and tries to put his words in order enough to argue. But Hanzo pauses at the door and turns back, interrupting the nonsensical sounds coming from McCree. “I cannot fault you for this, of course, but you cannot expect me to enjoy having a weapon aimed at me--especially when it stares me in the face.”

“I ain’t never aimed my gun at you,” McCree says, and even as he says it, he remembers when Hanzo came back all those weeks ago and stormed into the meeting and McCree had Peacekeeper trained on him before he’d even finished taking a breath. And, McCree supposes, there may have been one or two times he’d aimed at Hanzo back when Genji’d first brought him in last year. But those barely counted. He’d never aimed with the intent to attack, only to defend, and that had to count for something.

Hanzo doesn’t respond at first, only stares at McCree and narrows his eyes like he’s annoyed and even though it’s so similar to how Hanzo’s face always looks, there’s something heavier in that gaze, and McCree feels a tiny hint of pleasure creeping up his spine at finally getting under the stony archer’s skin. Though he’s still not sure how he managed it. 

“Perhaps you have not aimed your gun at me,” Hanzo says, and his tone sounds almost tired--tired of this conversation or of McCree or simply tired due to the late hour. He meets McCree’s eyes and gives him a look McCree suspects is meaningful, but he can’t interpret it. “But I have seen you fight. I know your gun is not your only weapon.” 

Hanzo doesn’t wait long enough for McCree to untie his tongue to respond to this, instead disappearing out the door while McCree stands frozen, as that long-ago conversation with Ana replays in his mind. 

He stands frozen long enough that Athena chimes and asks if he’s okay. McCree lets out a sound that’s little more than a grunt then retrieves his gun and goes back to target practice. He’s a good shot, but his heart’s not in it, and he doesn’t want to think what this will do to his average scores. 

He hasn’t survived this long without being able to identify the greatest danger in every room he enters and this, he tells himself, explains why he keeps one eye on Hanzo whenever he’s near. It’s only logical, he thinks, as Hanzo is the person on base he knows the least, and he’s a good enough assassin that if he wanted to, he could probably take quite a few agents out before anyone even saw him hiding in the rafters or wherever the hell he managed to climb up to without being noticed. That’s probably not a fact that should impress McCree, but he could always appreciate a skilled fighter, and damn if the archer didn’t have skill in spades.

It’s only logical, he tells himself again, trying to remember all the reasons he knows Hanzo is a danger. But none of those reasons seem to come to mind right then as Ana’s voice floats into his head, admonishing, stern. Telling him to mind where he aims his weapon.

_ Reckon I owe him another apology _ , he thinks, eye trained on his target. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments! Whenever someone says they like my story, I feel like crying a little bit! Y'all are so kind <3 and I'm so glad you like it! 
> 
> Also, one of the comments reminded me that I never mentioned an overall plan for this fic so: right now, I don't really know how long this will be. It's already getting much longer than I originally intended (my original ch 2 is now chapters 2, 3, and a little bit of 4) so this might be a much more ambitious project than I originally anticipated. My hope is I can continue updating every week, which has [mostly] been working so far. 
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to read, and I hope you continue enjoying! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo likes people with a wit as sharp as their aim, and he gets a little distracted on a mission. His friend is injured, and Hanzo does what he can to help. Hanzo and McCree have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, and welcome to chapter 4! As a reminder {text in brackets} is spoken in Japanese. I put it in brackets instead of trying to provide awkward translations for a language I don’t speak. Also, this isn't beta-read, so please let me know if you find any errors or typos or things that don't make sense! :)

Hanzo feels an instant connection with Shrike--her shrewd wit and warrior spirit impress upon him a need to both respect her and stay out of her way, and he can appreciate the effort it takes for someone so small to wield so much power. She’s all business right away, but that doesn’t stop her from snarking at anyone who glances at her sideways. She quips gently, slowly, like an old friend, and it sometimes takes people several moments before they realize she’s insulted them.

She focuses most of her barbs at Soldier 76, but Hanzo imagines he only escapes her wit because he gives her no words to turn against him past his initial greeting and introduction, and he hides his satisfied smirk when she responds to the cowboy’s attempt at charm sharply enough to leave him slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Even the way she says “cowboy,” slow and too-sweet sounds like a veiled insult, but nothing in her tone or her words make her seem particularly angry--she seems like someone who likes to have fun and likes to make sure the people around her are not taking themselves too seriously.

The two snipers stand side by side as the Soldier explains what’s next--a short mission, a quick favor for the soldier who has helped Overwatch on so many occasions. He wanted an extra sniper, which was a surprise to Hanzo who did not realize they already had a sniper.

“Overwatch doesn’t,” Soldier 76 had replied with something like amusement in his voice when Hanzo brought it up, “but I do.”

Hanzo’s instinct was to say no, but Soldier had also recruited Bastion, whose excited beeps at going on a mission together changed Hanzo’s mind.

Bastion does not seem to mind Shrike’s presence, but McCree and Hana eye her suspiciously, studying her mask, from the moment they’re introduced to her. Hanzo cannot help but wonder if the gunslinger wants to comment on working with two people who hide their faces behind a mask, but as they are not friends, he finds he has no way to ask about it.

The cowboy stays in the cockpit with Hana for the entire flight to New York, to a decommissioned Watchpoint that for some reason, Soldier 76 seems to have more information about than even Athena. No one mentions the strangeness of the situation, so neither does Hanzo. He simply stands next to Shrike, listening intently to the Soldier’s plan of attack when they touch down, his chest light with relief that the cowboy has someone else to turn his eye on for once.

The gunslinger’s quiet study of Shrike does not go unnoticed. Before they leave the drop ship, she asks him in that strangely calm and friendly voice, “Are you planning to shoot me, cowboy?”

“Not if I don’t have to, ma’am” he says, glaring into the triangle of lights on her mask.

Her soft chuckle is muffled by the voice modulator, but the sound still comes through as she shakes her head.

“You seem to be trying to paint a target on me. Mind that aim,” she says, and even though she has to look up to meet his gaze, she still seems to tower, her imposing form giving no ground.  

McCree frowns, looking between Hanzo and Shrike for a moment, likely recalling, as Hanzo does, the very similar words he’d heard only a few nights ago. Hanzo decides he definitely likes her, and he hopes her trigger finger is as quick as her wit.

“And what would you know about my aim?” he asks, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed, looking more like a caricature than a real person.

Shrike laughs again, deeper this time, like the cowboy has said something truly humorous, and the sound comes through her mask soft and tinny.

“I suppose you could say I have an eye for these things,” she says, her voice light. Hanzo senses from her tone that she is making some sort of joke he does not have the context to understand, and judging from McCree’s look of unimpressed suspicion, he does not understand, either. Hanzo does not miss, however, the way Soldier 76 turns his face away or the slight shake to his shoulders, as if he has to force himself not to laugh. McCree lets the subject drop but keeps his frown fixed on his face as they enter the abandoned building.

Shrike, Hanzo, and Bastion have an easy job: stick to the edges of the defunct Watchpoint, make sure nothing makes it out. If Bastion minds being asked to mow down dozens of omnics, he gives no indication of his discomfort.

When Hanzo drops down from the rafters a few hours into the operation to take out two omnics sneaking up behind Bastion, the friendly bot only waves hello and beeps out his remorse that he had to leave Ganymede alone on the ship. Hanzo pats Bastion on top of the turret, his attempt at reassurance, then climbs back up the wall for better lines of sight.

They clear the Watchpoint of rogue omnics in a few hours, and Hanzo and Shrike meet up high in the rafters to start a circuit together to check for any stragglers while Soldier, McCree, and D.Va retrieve whatever information Athena could not retrieve remotely.

They do find a few stragglers, and Hanzo is able to see Shrike in action. She is an excellent shot, and he hears the slight teasing edge to her voice even past the voice modulators when she suggests Hanzo take out one of the omnics she can’t get a good angle on. A challenge, and one Hanzo is happy to rise to. He points out a tougher shot for her, and she gladly raises her rifle.

They take out more omnics than Hanzo would have expected with the increasing challenges--these are more than mere stragglers, but the friendly competition holds Hanzo’s attention as the two snipers try trickier and more complicated shots. By the time Hanzo realizes that this feels more like a second wave than the last remnants of what they have cleared out, it is almost too late to call out the warning, but Shrike seems to realize at the same time, and they speak over each other in their attempt to warn the others.

“Say again,” Soldier says over the line, and Hanzo glares around at the rooms below as Shrike relays that a second wave of omnics is on the way to their position.

Before they can do much else, a small explosion topples both snipers from their perches, and Hanzo hits the ground hard, his leg twinging beneath him as he tries to stand. Hanzo hears breaking glass and a mumbled “this will help” before he’s enveloped in a soft yellow mist that feels warm on his skin. He feels his entire body relax in the mist as every ache and scrape fades. He jumps to his feet and releases a series of arrows into the advancing omnics and he and Shrike exchange a quick nod.

Bastion comes on the line, a few quick beeps, and then one long whine, and Hanzo whips around, running toward the direction where he last spotted his friend.

“Did anybody get that?” Soldier asks, unable to translate the omnic’s sounds.

“Bastion is injured,” Hanzo says quickly, as he dashes across rafters and beams, scaling walls, and dropping from railings a little too high. “He was overrun. I am on my way to his last known position.”

“Negative, Shimada, if he was overrun, you don’t stand a chance,” Soldier snaps.

Hanzo pauses his decent toward his friend, retrieves a sonic arrow, and fires it below, revealing the signatures of dozens of omnics, though he cannot tell if any of them are his friend. He decides the dragons will be able to tell the difference.

He realizes suddenly, even as he nocks another arrow, he is not sure what the dragons would think of any of these people except Bastion and Hana.

“Clear the southwest quadrant. I will make a path to Bastion.”

A moment before the sonic waves from his arrow fade, he sees three signatures darting out of the way. He releases his arrow, barely having to call for the dragons to answer, and they tear through the wall in front of him, before ripping apart the mass of omnics on the other side.

The return to the ship is a flurry of metal and movement, and Hana gets them in the air and heading back to Gibraltar. She had to use her MEKA to carry Bastion and could do little more than drag him along, damaging him further in the process. Hanzo kneels in the center of the ship next to Bastion, a mess of limbs and pieces, beeping and whirring sadly while Ganymede flits around, searching for a safe place to land. Eventually, the little bird settles on Hanzo’s shoulder and nuzzles into his neck, chirping softly. Hanzo, after weeks--months?--of hearing the bird’s various chirps, recognizes this particular sound.

“Yes, of course,” he mutters, setting his bow down and reaching up to untie the sash from his hair. He roughly shoves his hair to one side, and Ganymede snuggles into Hanzo’s neck and the buzzed hair of his undercut, then pecks and pulls at his draped hair until he can form a nest for himself.

Once Ganymede is settled, Hanzo places his hand on a part of Bastion that doesn’t look too badly damaged, and Bastion lets out a few grateful beeps and whirrs. Hanzo hums his acknowledgement, and they sit that way as Hanzo ignores the feeling of eyes all around the ship on him.

The soldier reports that Satya and Torbjörn have been alerted to Bastion’s condition and will be present when the ship touches down to help. Hanzo nods and turns his full attention back to his omnic friend, keeping a careful eye, wishing he knew what signs to look for to know if he is stable or deteriorating. His exposed wires and loose parts look dangerous and painful, but Bastion does not mention pain--he only beeps a sad tune too dissimilar to anything Hanzo has heard before for him to be able to translate accurately.

Eventually, Bastion lets out a more recognizable string of sounds, asking Hanzo if he will visit while Torbjörn  and Satya fix him up, and Hanzo nods, pats Bastion’s arm gently. He beeps again, asking for flowers.

“Certainly. Which ones would you like?”

Bastion lets out a gentle sound, and Hanzo fumbles with it in his head, trying to piece it together or relate it to sounds he has heard the omnic make before. _Your flowers_. Hanzo pictures the garden in his mind, trying to determine which flowers Bastion might consider Hanzo’s, since he has never really touched any of them past a gentle brush to admire them. He has never brought flowers or involved himself in their care unless Bastion was away on a mission. Which flowers would the omnic call his?

As he tries to remember, Satya’s voice floats into his mind, soft and encouraging but still in that severe way she has of speaking--as if the words were so obvious she should not have to say them aloud: _you are trying_.

Of course. _His flowers_. Hanzo still has plenty of paper in his room, but he decides he will make a quick trip to town in the morning for more. He is not sure how long Bastion’s repairs will take, but Hanzo resolves to make him flowers for every day his friend has to spend away from his garden.

He lets his smile curl up the corners of his lips and crinkle the skin by his eyes as he gazes down at his friend. There is a quiet sound, a sharp intake of breath, from somewhere outside of Hanzo’s line of sight, but whatever the issue might be, Hanzo cannot imagine it would require his attention more than his friend does.

“I would be happy to,” Hanzo says, patting Bastion’s chassis lightly, and Bastion whirrs and beeps again, then quiets down.

When they land, Satya and Torbjörn retrieve Bastion quickly and whisk him away while Hanzo watches.

Once Bastion is off the ship, Soldier 76 asks Hana to drop him and Shrike someplace else, and Hanzo and McCree depart the ship so they can leave again.

Hanzo feels relief flood his chest like the first breath of cool air on a too-hot day when he sees his brother waiting for him in the hangar despite the late hour. Genji nods a greeting to McCree before turning to Hanzo.

The exhaustion hits him all at once--the long fight, the dragons, the adrenaline leached from his body, and he sags, hunching over. He allows his brother to put his arm around him and lead him away, and though he despises the show of weakness, he is smart enough to admit the metal arm around him stops him from stumbling on his way back to his room.

Genji helps Hanzo into his bed, and all Hanzo has the energy to do is remove his boots and the outer casings on his legs before burrowing under the covers. Hanzo sees the questioning look in his brother’s eyes once he removes his visor, but Genji remains blessedly silent while Hanzo lets the exhaustion roll over him. They had fought for almost the entire day, and it ended with Hanzo calling the dragons, and he could feel the fatigue weighing down his limbs, and with no more adrenaline keeping him on his feet, his eyes fall closed easily with Genji’s quiet and comforting presence.

He falls asleep to the sound of his own breathing, and when he wakes up, he’s surprised to see Genji still there. At some point, Genji had dragged the small, uncomfortable chair from the other side of the room over to the bed, which is how Hanzo finds him: asleep, leaned as far back in the small chair as he can manage, with his feet kicked up on the bed.

Careful not to jostle his brother, Hanzo slides out of bed and peels his clothes off the moment he is in the bathroom. He turns the water hot enough to turn his skin red and stays in much longer than he should, but the comfort of a warm shower is too tempting to leave earlier than he needs to. When he walks out, his brother is awake and has tea and breakfast sitting on the small table. Perhaps the shower lasted a little longer than Hanzo realized.

{Morning, brother,} Genji says, and Hanzo lets his brother engage him in idle chatter while they eat. Hanzo does not let himself be surprised by how long Genji lasts talking about the other agents, his earlier trip to town, a new recipe he tried before finally getting to what he had surely been wanting to discuss since last night. They are just clearing away the breakfast dishes--simply setting them out of the way for now instead of walking them all the way back to the kitchen--so Hanzo can pull out his origami paper before Genji asks.

{I heard about Bastion. Are you okay?}

{Of course. I am not the one who was injured.} Hanzo does not look at his brother as he speaks, instead starting the familiar folds to make flowers for his friend.

{That is not what I meant.}

Hanzo lets out a heavy sigh before speaking again. {I am fine. It was a long battle, and I called on the dragons when I was already growing weary from the fight. I needed rest, but I am fine now.}

{You are worried for your friend.} Genji grabs a sheet of paper and joins Hanzo in making flowers, his metal hands working the paper much more quickly than his brother’s.

Hanzo nods and continues his folding. Genji lets it drop, and the silence lasts for almost a dozen flowers.

{You are practically already a member of Overwatch; you have friends here you worry about, you go on missions with the team and with allies as a favor. Have you given more thought to joining?}

Hanzo stops folding and looks up to meet his brother’s eyes, but at the hope he sees there, he turns his attention back to the table.

{I have been thinking about leaving.}

{You do not wish to stay?}

Hanzo rubs his palm across the back of his head, feeling the bristly hairs of his undercut--he would need another shave soon. This is not a discussion he wished to have so early in the morning--or while his friend is injured. {I still have not decided. I thought staying here and seeing what my life would be like as an agent would help me decide, but now I think time away would be better, so I could make my decision away from watchful eyes.}

{Are you referring to McCree?}

{Why do you think I would be referring to him?}

{He came to me to ask me for advice. He wants to apologize to you, he said, for making you feel unwelcome here.}

Hanzo does not respond, instead returning to his task of folding flowers. Genji follows suit, but he does not let it drop.

{I thought the two of you would get along. You are very similar, you know.} Genji says, examining his latest flower.

{I believe you mentioned as much when you first brought me here. And I think you are probably right. I would not trust me, either.}

{Brother--}

Hanzo holds up a hand to cut him off. {No matter. I have made other friends here.}

{But still you hesitate.}

Hanzo nods but says nothing, continuing his folds, making every kind of flower he knows how to. He thinks Bastion will like a variety rather than many of the same. Hanzo does not know how to explain to his brother that he is not sure he wants to join Overwatch, so lets the silence fill the room.

After folding more flowers than necessary, Hanzo gathers them and uses a small needle and sturdy thread to string them together while Genji watches his movements in silence. Hanzo curls up the long strand of flowers when he is finished, unsure what to do next. He could tie it together as a sort of necklace or leave it like a garland for Bastion to hang on a wall, and he decides to leave that decision up to his friend. His brother waits until Hanzo finishes his project before speaking again.

{Things are different now, brother. They did not trust you at the beginning, but I have had over a year to tell them how much you have changed. Do not think I have not noticed that you only befriend the people who were not here the last time. Give the others a chance to get to know you as you are now.}

{I will think on your words.}

{You are as vague as ever.} Genji sounds annoyed, but when Hanzo turns to face him, he’s smiling.

{Diplomatic.}

{Indecisive.}

Hanzo wants to argue, but he knows his brother is right. Instead of conceding, he gathers the string of paper flowers in his arm and ushers his brother out of his room.

{This conversation isn’t over,} Genji calls after Hanzo, who only nods.

#

Bastion loves the flowers. When Hanzo explains the string--quietly, so as not to speak over Torbjörn and Reinhardt who are engaged in a lively discussion about armor even while Torbjörn gathers supplies and tinkers with Bastion--the omnic insists Hanzo string it around his chassis immediately. Satya gently shuts down the idea, explaining that they still need to weld a few items back together and that would put the flowers in danger.

After a few dejected beeps from his friend, Hanzo decides to hang the flowers as a garland along a nearby desk so Bastion can keep them in his line of sight while the engineer and architech work on him. Bastion trills excitedly, waking Ganymede, who chirps in annoyance before flying over to Hanzo and settling on his shoulder.

Before Bastion can become too worked up, Hanzo insists it is no trouble to take care of the bird for a few hours--Ganymede has not been outside since Bastion was brought to Torbjörn's lab yesterday, and Bastion worries for his bird friend. Bastion beeps his thanks before turning back to stare at the garland, and Hanzo uses the distraction to hand Satya the two lotus flowers he folded for her.

She takes them with a small, grateful smile, and Hanzo knows from the tightness of her lips and the tension in her shoulders not to try to engage her in conversation. Satya worked all last night and most of the day in the lab, and Hanzo doubts she has been able to take any time to herself--or sleep. He will bring her some tea when he returns with Ganymede later, he decides, silently chiding himself for not thinking to do so sooner. After a small bow and more exchanged smiles, Hanzo makes his way outside. Ganymede immediately chirps in excitement, and Hanzo apologizes to the bird when he does not stop by the garden and instead continues back to the building housing Winston’s office. He considers explaining to Ganymede that they will be able to return to the outside after this meeting, but he has never been sure how much the bird understands. Hanzo settles on simply muttering “Soon” and letting his hair down because he knows Ganymede likes that. This was not how Hanzo intended to appear for his meeting with Winston, but there is little to be done for it.

Hanzo and Winston quickly come to a tentative agreement: Overwatch requires funding, and Hanzo has grown too restless to avoid working regularly for much longer. He does not wish to take on enough missions with Overwatch that he will feel like he is officially--or as officially as can happen in an unofficial organization--part of the team, and Winston will not ask him to do anything he does not wish to.

Hanzo will not go back to his mercenary work completely, but Winston will no longer object to him taking on a few jobs here and there, as long as Hanzo takes his comm so he can call for backup if he needs it. Despite Winston’s assurances that it is not necessary, Hanzo will give the money he makes from this work to Overwatch to help cover the costs of running a semi-clandestine and fully-illegal peace-keeping organization.

And even if Hanzo is still hesitant to join, he should at least be a larger part of the team, starting with the organization-wide quarterly meeting next week. Hanzo struggles to maintain his composure at this, hesitant to agree to what will likely be an hours-long meeting about various topics Hanzo has no real interest in, but when Winston reminds him this will be a useful way to get to know the other agents and work on team cohesion for the success of future missions, Hanzo reluctantly agrees.

Hanzo walks more quickly than necessary down the stairs from Winston’s office and out the door, eager to get away before he decides to agree to any other long meetings or frustrating missions. As he walks past the comm building, his comm pings, and he takes it out to see a message from Winston. Hanzo turns to stare up at the windows of Winston’s lab, and he can roughly make out the shape of the large scientist hunched over his desk. The message is a suggestion to meet with Dr. Ziegler about obtaining some med kits for his solo missions, in case he’s injured while on his own. Hanzo types back a quick thanks before sending the Doctor a short note asking for the med kits as he climbs the side stairs of the radar array building, hidden from most parts of the base.

Once he’s on the mezzanine level, out of direct lines of sight from anywhere but the water in front of him (and, he supposes, the lighthouse in the distance), Hanzo takes a seat, relaxing far enough back that if someone were to climb the lighthouse, they would not have an easy shot at him. Ganymede chirps gratefully for the time outside, and Hanzo mutters gently at the little bird as he relaxes in his first bit of time alone after such a busy few days. He removes his gourd from his obi and takes a long sip, reveling in the familiar taste of his favorite sake.

Hanzo’s peace lasts for almost an hour, though he would have liked for it to go on much longer. He is first alerted to the approach of someone else by the jingling of spurs, and he closes his eyes so he does not roll them as the cowboy rounds the bottom of the radar array building. The noisy boots mark the cowboy’s progress halfway up the stairs before he pauses, and Hanzo opens his eyes then, turning them on the gunslinger who has one foot suspended in the air above the next step, eyes fixed on Hanzo.

The cowboy seems to shake himself, putting his foot down to regain his balance, then quickly averts his eyes. He takes a deep breath, seems to force himself to relax, then turns his eyes back to Hanzo, looking much more casual than he normally does when Hanzo pretends not to notice him staring.

“Howdy there, archer,” the gunslinger calls out, light and friendly, like they have not been dancing around each other for months, and Hanzo inclines his head in a small nod to acknowledge he has heard the greeting. The cowboy seems to take this as a welcoming gesture, and he climbs the rest of the stairs.

“And howdy to you, too, little one,” McCree says when he gets close enough to see Ganymede resting on Hanzo’s shoulder, once again nuzzled into his neck. The bird chirps then stares at McCree as he hooks his thumbs into his belt and stands awkwardly near Hanzo, oscillating between staring at him and forcing himself to look away. The cowboy clearly has something he wants to say, and Hanzo is content to continue sipping his sake and wait him out.

McCree takes off his hat and holds it in front of him, fidgeting with the brim.

“Listen, Shimada-san, I been right rude to you, and I’d like to apologize.”

Hanzo starts to respond, but the cowboy holds up his hat and waves it, as if to cut him off.

“Let me finish, please.” He holds his hat against his chest with his metal hand and runs his other through his hair. “Look, I know things were weird when you were here last year, but when you came back, I thought things would be different, especially since you seemed sorta friendly at first, and then you got all cold again, and I thought maybe I’d done somethin’ to put you off and didn’t know what. And then I thought maybe you just hadn’t changed all that much, despite what Genji said, and I started lookin’ for reasons not to like you, and that just made things worse.”

His non-metal hand flutters wildly, like he’s not sure what to do with it, as he speaks, and Hanzo finds the movement somewhat distracting. Still, McCree marches on with his strange speech.

“So when you said what you did last week, I realized you were right, and we’ve both been kinda rude to each other, and I thought maybe we could start over.”

With that, McCree plops his hat back on his head, steps a little closer before crouching down so he’s at eye level with the still-sitting Hanzo and holds out his hand.

“So… here we are. Name’s McCree. Nice to meet you, partner.”

Hanzo blames the sake for the trouble he has following McCree’s rambling, even though he knows he’s had very little of it. Still, it takes his brain longer than it should to follow the tumbling words and connect them to the way McCree had reintroduced himself. As the cowboy’s smile starts to waver in uncertainty, Hanzo reaches out to shake his hand.

“Hanzo,” he says simply.

McCree nods, his wide, toothy grin back on his face.

“Well now, darlin’, that wasn’t too bad, was it? Mind if I join you for a drink?” he asks, and he retrieves a flask from a pocket and waves it at Hanzo.

Hanzo forces himself not to flinch at the pet name, and simply shrugs. He does mind, as he was hoping to have some time alone, but Genji’s words from that morning soften his ire against the rowdy cowboy, especially since he is being so careful not to keep his gaze trained on Hanzo for too long. McCree’s smile grows wider as he settles into a more comfortable seated position next to Hanzo to look out at the water with him, and he easily falls into what Hanzo can only assume is his typical habit of filling every silence with too many words.

Hanzo remembers meeting the cowboy when he first arrived at the watchpoint over a year ago and thinking the man seemed to talk more to fill a silence than to actually say anything. Keeping up with the stories proves somewhat difficult as McCree jumps from one story immediately into a new one, the connections often too tenuous to be able to track, but Hanzo puts some effort into paying attention so he may respond when McCree pauses for him to do so. His responses are limited to soft hums of acknowledgement or nods or shakes of the head where relevant; there is little for Hanzo to add to McCree’s stories, and McCree seems content to let himself talk at length.

Hanzo almost misses the quick jump from the story of McCree’s “favorite serape” to his question, and his mind races to catch up.

“How come you sometimes wear jeans and such, and sometimes you wear your whole traditional get-up?” McCree asks, motioning to the kyudo-gi Hanzo has on, and then, seeing Hanzo’s gaze--likely sterner than Hanzo’s intention as he is somewhat focused--fixed on him, hastens to add, “If you don’t mind my askin’.”

Hanzo forces his expression to relax a little, though he knows his usual face is not much more comforting. He looks the cowboy up and down, not bothering to hide his examination, before meeting his eyes. “Some of us own more than one outfit.”

Hanzo blames the sake and several days in the company of others for his inability to hold his tongue when the cowboy stares at him, mouth open and eyes wide, for two long breaths. Hanzo only has time to decide he will not apologize for his comment even if he perhaps should before McCree’s lips curl into a smile, and a moment later, the gunslinger breaks into a hearty laugh.

“Damn,” McCree says, once the chuckling dies down enough for him to speak, “mean as a snake, ain’t ya?”

Hanzo looks down to the edge of his tattoo left uncovered by the sleeve of his gi, then looks back at McCree with a raised eyebrow. McCree follows his gaze, then smiles his wide, toothy smile again.

“Mean as a dragon,” the cowboy says.

The gunslinger continues talking for a while, and Hanzo decides his earlier assessment of the cowboy was correct: while McCree seems to speak at length, he never seems to say much of anything. Even after hearing countless stories about him and former colleagues and friends, Hanzo finds he knows no more about the cowboy than he did before. It is almost like an art--to speak at such length and with such charisma as to distract the listener from realizing they are hearing very little of substance.

Hanzo finds it is distracting enough trying to parse through the seemingly unconnected stories that he does not realize how late it is until Ganymede stirs on his shoulder and chirps impatiently in his ear. McCree seems surprised, like he may have forgotten about the bird, and Hanzo excuses himself to return the bird to Bastion.

“Right,” McCree says, lighting a cigarillo. “Sure was nice chattin’ with you. Catch you next time, archer.”

Hanzo pauses for a moment before remembering this is simply an informal farewell. Still, it sounds almost like a challenge said in the cowboy’s lazy drawl, and Hanzo feels compelled to respond. “You are certainly welcome to try, gunslinger.”

McCree stares at Hanzo for a moment with that wide-eyed surprise before cracking into another wide grin.

#

Despite Hanzo’s daily offerings of tea and origami flowers, Satya’s temper grows even shorter than usual after four long days in Torbjörn’s lab. Her responses to the few people on base who attempt to greet her become more clipped than usual, and even Hanzo does not dare speak around her more than absolutely necessary. He simply brings tea to the lab, shows Bastion the newest garland of flowers, and retreats back to the garden by himself, the shooting range with Hana, or he joins his brother for tea and meditation. He even spends some time listening to Reinhardt wax poetic about past battles, and even though the crusader is too loud, Hanzo finds he does not mind listening to him describe his time “in glorious combat.”

With Satya’s patience growing thin and temper running high, the argument is no surprise. But that makes it no less loud or ugly. No one steps in until Lúcio’s insults become personal, and even then, Satya merely tries to explain all the good Vishkar did for the world. Before Brazil.

It is Hanzo that steps in on her behalf, and he does not miss the surprised glances he receives for his trouble, even as Hana steps in to try to pull Lúcio away. Hanzo politely pretends he does not feel eyes on him as he directs Satya to the garden to wait while he makes tea. He wishes Bastion were well enough to join them, but he knows the omnic still requires more work. Still, he sends his friend a quick message and hopes Bastion will receive it and perhaps be gentle with Satya when she returns to Torbjörn’s lab later.

When Hanzo arrives at the garden, he sees Satya’s hands shaking as she stares out at the sea past the garden. He sets the tea and the paper down, and Satya reaches for the paper immediately to begin the familiar folds. Hanzo follows along, letting her work through her frustration and stress with something familiar.

Hanzo finishes a lotus and then grabs a green sheet and starts different folds. Satya watches closely as he folds and creases and molds the paper into something different, and when he is done, he sets a frog in front of her.

She stares at it for a long time, not saying anything, and Hanzo waits for her to process this new design and what Hanzo is trying to communicate without words. Finally, she nods, grabs a green sheet from the pile and looks at him. He nods back, also grabs a green sheet and goes through the movements again, slower this time, to let her follow along. When they have both finished their frogs, Hanzo presses down on his frog’s back and releases, letting it hop forward feebly and land upside down.

When he looks up, he sees Satya’s eyebrows raised, mouth open a little in surprise. She composes herself, looks at her own frog, and mimics his movement, watches as the frog lurches forward and tumbles.

Her stern face softens--it is not quite a smile, but Hanzo knows it is as close as she will get to one today.

It is such a small thing, but Hanzo heard the argument, and he sees Satya trying. He knows how often she thinks about Vishkar and what she did for them and how often she wonders how many others she hurt without ever knowing. The frog is such a small thing, but he reminds himself, as he so often does, that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Next, he shows Satya how to make a rabbit, and these they make in pink. He does not think Satya would want him to give Lúcio the frogs, so perhaps he will give them to Hana with the rabbits. After they have made a few of each, they return to the more familiar pattern of flowers, and at the end, Hanzo strings his together for Bastion. Satya watches him do this, and once Hanzo is done, he offers her the needle and string, and she strings hers together, too. They take both garlands to Bastion, who offers only a gentle beep of thanks, in deference to Satya’s need for quiet. Even Torbjörn and Reinhardt seem to understand the need to tone down their conversation for a while, and Hanzo offers all of them a smile when he leaves.

He offers the frogs and rabbits to Hana the next time they train together, and she takes them happily, saying she’ll have to feature them on her next stream. Hanzo smiles as she throws her arms around his neck in excitement, but he wonders how much longer he can stay here and claim these people as his friends when he still has one foot out the door.

#

After so long understanding the signs of his own mind, Hanzo knows when he will be able to sleep eventually and when he will greet the sunrise without ever having closed his eyes. He abandons the warm comfort of his small bunk for the cool breeze coming off the sea outside. After wandering somewhat aimlessly for a while, he makes his way to the radar array building, up the steps on the side, and he settles against the guardrail to stare out at the cliffs and the lighthouse and the water.

Hanzo shivers as the breeze becomes more of a gust and realizes with some surprise that winter will soon be upon them. He returned to Gibraltar in late summer, and he managed to make it through most of autumn without ever stopping to think about how much time he was spending here, and though Winston had told him he would always be welcome, it does not stop the guilt Hanzo feels at taking up space and resources despite not yet accepting the offer to join Overwatch officially.

He had promised Genji he would think about it and that he would have an answer after that mission to Lijiang, but when Hanzo returned and did not wish to speak about it, Genji had been patient and forgiving. This is not surprising, Hanzo reminds himself--there is the brash, foolhardy, impatient Genji of his memory and the calm, shrewd, wise Genji of present. Not two different people, but two sides of the same man who managed to find peace within himself and become a better brother than Hanzo could ever hope to be.

The smell of tobacco and spice, carried by the wind, hits Hanzo first, and he tenses. He hears the soft jingling of spurs next, and Hanzo slows his breathing as if that can make him turn invisible or prevent what happens next. Still, he hears the spurs grow louder as the cowboy climbs the steps on the side of the building and then pause suddenly.

“Well howdy there,” the cowboy says. “Come here often?”  

Hanzo bows his head slightly in greeting but does not acknowledge the question. This is not the first time the gunslinger has found Hanzo here, so it would be useless to deny it. McCree climbs the rest of the stairs and saunters over to Hanzo’s side, leaning against the rail next to him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Hanzo does not find the question exasperating enough to change his expression, so he simply turns his unimpressed stare on McCree, hoping it is enough to convey how silly he thinks the question is. McCree chuckles.

“Me neither.”

McCree surprises Hanzo by not continuing the conversation. It seems even he can understand the need for silence. He surprises Hanzo further by letting the silence last almost an hour, and when the cowboy finally speaks again, Hanzo does not find his voice as grating as usual.

“You expectin’ a fight out here?” McCree asks, eyeing Hanzo’s bow over his shoulder. Hanzo imagines he makes an odd picture with his bow and quiver and his sleep clothes, but since McCree is no better with his lounge pants and serape and cowboy boots and hat, he probably will not comment on it.

Hanzo shakes his head.

“I get it,” McCree says, patting the gun on his hip. They fall into silence for a few more minutes, and Hanzo is surprised by the cowboy’s ability to remain quiet for even that long.

“You’re pretty handy with a bow, but don’t you think it’s a little old fashioned?”

Hanzo turns to look at McCree and looks him up and down, from his spurred boots which he’s wearing even with his lounge pants, to his six-shooter, to his cowboy hat before meeting his eyes. He leans forward a little, and McCree leans forward, too, as if to share a secret. Hanzo can’t help the little smirk that plays across his lips as he reaches toward McCree and the cowboy freezes. Hanzo flicks the brim of his cowboy hat, and McCree jerks back, startled.

“Perhaps there is still a future for anachronisms,” he says, leaning back against the rail.

McCree’s responding chuckle seems nervous and a little breathless. They fall back into another long silence, and this time, it is Hanzo who breaks it.

“Is there something you wish to ask me?” Hanzo says, before fully realizing he has made the connection in his head.

“What?”

“It is unusual for you to be so quiet. The only times I have seen you so have been when you had something to say but were hesitant to.”

McCree leans back on his heels, and frowns, considering.

“I suppose there is something, but I don’t think I’ve put it together quite yet. Still thinkin’ about it.”

“Take care you do not hurt yourself,” Hanzo says.

McCree turns to look at him with a wide smile. “Mean as a dragon.”

Hanzo lifts one shoulder in a shrug and turns back to the water, though his attention remains on the cowboy next to him.

_Speaks when he has nothing to say. Quiet when he does._

It strikes Hanzo, not for the first time, that perhaps the cowboy should take care to mind his own mask before commenting on anyone else’s.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out so much later than I meant it to! I had a lot of this fic written before I posted the first chapter, but I keep making major revisions, and it’s taking way longer than I thought it would. But I was working on chapter 5 at the same time as this one, so hopefully that one will put me back on schedule, but we’ll see! Thank you for sticking with me, and thank you for your patience!
> 
> And please let me know what you think of Under the Mask, and thank you so much for reading! I’ve gotten such kind and supportive comments on this, and when I got frustrated last week and wanted to just quit writing it, I re-read the comments, and they made me want to keep writing, so I really appreciate all the kindness and support you’ve shown me! <3 You’re all amazing!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree gets bored at a meeting, sees a side of Hana he hasn't before, and reminisces about shooting with Ana. He also learns some interesting things about Hanzo and tries to test the limits of his tenuous new friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so much longer than I meant for it to! I kept rewriting and changing parts of the story and wowza it’s already been over a month since my last update, and I did not mean for that to happen! Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading "Under the Mask"! I hope you enjoy this next chapter (which is my longest chapter yet)!  
> I read and re-read these things a million times before I post, but I invariably find a bunch of typos and random weird things that need fixing after I hit “post.” Let me know if you find any issues, and I’ll fix them!

McCree returns to the mezzanine of the radar array building every night for a week, but there’s no sign of Hanzo. He tells himself the archer isn’t avoiding him--they’d managed several conversations that didn’t end with the assassin rushing off with tense shoulders, and that had to mean something.

 _He’s a flight risk_ , Jack’s voice echoes in McCree’s head, and McCree tries not to let himself think about the fact that anyone here could disappear one day without a trace and might never be found again.

With no sign of Hanzo in his usual spot--which is what McCree has taken to calling it even though he’s only run into Hanzo there twice--McCree wanders aimlessly around the rest of the base, examining the high catwalks and dark corners for the elusive elder Shimada, charming and chatting with Angela, Lena, and Lúcio and politely pretending he doesn't see them politely not asking him what he's looking for. 

McCree decides he doesn’t take not seeing the archer personally, because a handful of friendly conversations after months of wary avoidance aren’t really enough to fix anything. And just because he wants to see the archer smile again doesn’t mean they're automatically friends. Still, though, McCree has always been good at reading people and the assassin’s indiscernible expressions always give him pause. What he wouldn’t give to understand the slight quirks in that frown as well as he understands the softness in Hanzo’s gaze as he stares at his brother when he thinks no one is watching.

He finds no sign of Hanzo until he walks into the quarterly meeting and sees the archer sitting at the table and listening to Mei, recently returned from another data-mining mission at one of the eco-Watchpoints, talk about the upcoming coldfront and not even turning to acknowledge the others walking into the room, like he’s perfectly comfortable there, sandwiched between Vaswani and Hana with Mei hovering near him. McCree takes a seat across the table from Hanzo and tips his hat in greeting when the archer looks up at the noise McCree makes as he plops gracelessly into his seat. Hanzo nods and immediately turns back to Mei.   

The rest of the seats fill quickly, and when Winston clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, Mei gives Hanzo a wide smile and then takes a seat on the other side of Vaswani. McCree finds himself tuning out of the meeting before it really even gets started. He respects Winston, and he appreciates that the scientist is trying to keep everyone informed of all the goings-on of the new Overwatch, but damn, McCree can only take sitting still listening to someone talk numbers and vague plans for so long.

Winston pulls up all kinds of charts and graphs and reports that he shares with the group, and once McCree figures out that the general message is “things are going well, but they're not perfect; here’s what we’ve done so far, and here’s what’s next,” he decides he can’t focus anymore. He fiddles with the notepad--who even uses real paper anymore?--on the table in front of him, folding and unfolding the corners of the top page while bouncing his foot up and down impatiently. Winston manages to briefly grab McCree’s attention when he mentions the funding they’ve been receiving, which will help pay for some of the repairs they’ve been desperately needing, will go back to what it was before a short break in the revenue stream. But he doesn’t say where the money’s coming from, like he hasn't said for the past year, so McCree tunes back out.

The familiarity of it hits him hard: sitting around a table, listening to Jack drone on and on while McCree sits and shakes his leg and fiddles with the papers in front of him. He remembers leaning over to Gabe during his first quarterly meeting to ask why meetings were so _boring_ and if he was really expected to just sit there and listen, and Gabe only grinned back and said “Eso sí que es, vaquero.” The same thing he always said when McCree was annoyed and asking questions like this because Gabe knew it would annoy him more.

McCree grabs the paper in front of him and smooths out the corner he’d folded, remembering the next thing Gabe did in that meeting so many years ago. He makes the familiar folds to turn the sheet of paper into a small triangle. When he looks up, he sees Lúcio grinning at him, and the medic holds his hands up, pointer fingers and thumbs shaped into Ls with both hands to make a goal. McCree glances briefly to Winston to make sure he’s not looking before angling his body toward Lúcio, lining up the shot, and flicking the back of the paper football. It misses the goal and hits Lúcio in the arm, and he grins and lines up his own shot as Hana holds up her own hands to make the next goal.

They take turns, and the angles are sort of awkward, since they’re all sitting fairly close, but the people sitting between them only ignore them or try to supress giggles as the game progresses. Mercy frowns when Jesse flicks the football directly at her and hits her in the shoulder, but she still flicks it back before returning her attention to Winston’s presentation.

Mei only pushes it back across the table when it goes to her, but Lena and Genji are happy to join the game. Genji makes every goal perfectly, despite the football’s uneven shape, and McCree sticks his tongue out at him when he finally lands his in Lena’s goal. She gets a little ahead of herself and flicks too hard, and they all let out little gasps when the paper football sails directly toward Hanzo’s face. He’s turned away, paying close attention to the presentation, and McCree grits his teeth to stop himself from calling out a warning before watching Hanzo snatch it right out of the air with his quick fingers. He doesn’t even turn to look as he catches it. He places it on the table in front of him and slides it toward his right elbow, putting it within Hana’s reach without ever turning his attention away from Winston. McCree doesn’t bother to hide his wide grin. _Show off_.

They return to the game, more careful with their aim this time. It lasts for longer than it probably should before the next person to flub a shot is Lúcio. He hits it a little too high and too sideways and instead of sailing through the air to Hana, it slides across the table and bumps into Vaswani’s arm. She looks down at it, eyebrows raised in surprise as she picks up the little triangle to examine it. She places it back on the table and quickly unfolds it, and McCree can practically feel Lúcio restraining himself from making a scathing comment. Surprisingly, once the architech finishes unfolding the paper, she starts refolding it with quick and precise movements. When she’s finished, she holds it up to examine her work, and McCree has to admit the new football is much more even than his was. But instead of flicking it back, she holds it out for Hanzo, and he takes it and examines it carefully, as if it were just as important as the meeting still going on around them. And the meeting is still going on, Winston still presenting charts and data and information that's surely very important but everyone but the scientist is suddenly ignoring the presentation to watch the archer and the architech.

After a moment, Hanzo nods his approval, and Vaswani nods back before returning her attention to Winston, seemingly unaware of all the eyes around the table studying her. This time, Hanzo turns to look at Hana as he hands her the little piece of folded paper, his unreadable expression morphing into the face someone might make when they’re gently but firmly scolding a friend: disapproving frown with a slight lift of the eyebrows, as if to say “this is entertaining but inappropriate.” Hana takes the football sheepishly and sets it in her lap, effectively ending their game.

Genji, who had eagerly participated in the game until then, stares at Hana for a moment before turning to stare at the side of his brother’s head. Then, as if sensing he’s being watched, he turns his visor to McCree, who tips his hat in greeting. Genji nods then turns his attention back to Winston. McCree tries to do the same, but he’s already gone too long without paying attention and passes the rest of the meeting splitting his attention between Hanzo and the clock.

_#_

McCree has seen Hana by herself before, but it’s a rare sight. She almost always has someone by her side, and she almost always has a smile on her face. But she’s a soldier, and McCree knows the kinds of dreams she must have. He has them, too.

So when he sees her a few days after the meeting wandering the base in the middle of the night, arms wrapped around herself, he recognizes the pain in her eyes and asks if she’d like to join him for some coffee. She shakes her head no, and stuffs her hands in the pockets of her sweater, kicking her feet at the ground.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, even though they’ve never really been close enough to share the stories that keep them up at night. Still, he knows sometimes all you need is someone willing to listen.

She shakes her head again but mumbles out a quiet “thanks.”

“Sometimes it helps to talk about it,” he says, rolling a cigarillo between his fingers. “You don’t have to talk to me, if you don’t want to. Hell, you don’t _have_ to talk to anyone. But sometimes it helps. Might be good to try.”

She eyes him warily and nods but doesn’t move other than that, so he nods back and continues his walk toward the training room. He looks back before he turns the corner and sees Hana pull her comm out of her pocket and type out a quick message.

Lúcio, he’d guess. Or Tracer or Genji, but Lúcio makes the most sense. The two are practically inseparable. He lets his mind wander as he finds a quiet place on the other side of the main hangar to smoke. He spots someone moving in the shadows and reaches for Peacekeeper, but he doesn’t draw. Of course, Athena would warn him if there were someone on base who shouldn't be, and a quick check-in with the AI reveals it’s simply another agent wandering about at night, though she doesn’t tell him who. He keeps smoking, keeping an eye on the shadows, and he thinks he should take his own damn advice and talk to someone.  

After finishing his cigarillo, McCree knows he won’t be able to sleep yet, or if he does, he will not like what he sees when he closes his eyes, so he makes his way to the kitchen for a late-night snack and is surprised to hear voices when he rounds the corner. He can’t understand them at first, and when he gets closer he realizes they’re not speaking English. He pauses for a moment, recognizing the high-pitched voice going on almost without breath as Hana’s. She must be speaking with someone in Korean--he hadn’t realized anyone else on base could speak it.

McCree rounds the corner and freezes in the doorway at the sight in front of him. Neither of the people in the kitchen notice him as he stands there, letting his surprise root him to the spot. Hana sits at one of the tables with her head in her hands, back to him, speaking at length--presumably about whatever has her still awake so late, but McCree of course can’t understand her.

Speaking up occasionally in response--and also in Korean--is Hanzo, who stands at the counter making tea. He pauses his tea making for a moment when Hana’s breath hitches and digs something out one of his coat pockets. He quickly hides it behind his back and makes his way to where Hana sits. She looks up at him, still mumbling and then pauses, seeing the look on his face that she must have more luck interpreting because McCree can’t for the life of him understand it.

Hana says something, leans back a little to get a better look at him, then Hanzo pulls what looks like a bag of chips from behind his back. That’s all McCree can get from it, though, before Hana snatches it from Hanzo’s hands, staring down at it, then looks up at Hanzo, then back at the bag in her hands.

She lets out a little squeal, jumps up, but not completely out from under the table, and she drags Hanzo down in an awkward hug. Hanzo’s arms slam against the table to keep himself from falling, but then he wraps one muscled arm around her to pat the back of her head awkwardly. He mumbles a few words in Korean and starts to pull away. Hana releases him and tears into her snack.

Hanzo says something to her quietly, and she actually giggles. Then Hanzo turns his gaze to McCree at the door. There’s no surprise on his face, as if he’s known McCree was there the entire time, but the soft look on Hanzo’s face vanishes into one more impassive before he raises a single eyebrow at the cowboy. It occurs to McCree then that he’s never once seen Hanzo look surprised or startled, even when there’s no way he could have heard someone sneaking up on him. _Composure_ , Hanzo’s voice echoes in McCree’s head, even as the present Hanzo stares him down.

McCree raises both hands as if to say “I mean no harm,” and takes a step back. Hanzo narrows his eyes for a moment and then returns to the counter to finish preparing their tea. McCree keeps watching him for a moment, considers making a hasty retreat before deciding Hana seems okay enough for him to intrude long enough to grab whatever dregs are left in the coffee maker and a quick snack he can take back to his room.

He makes his steps a little heavier to announce his presence as he enters the kitchen. Hana whips around to see who it is, and she nods her head a little to acknowledge him. He tips his hat in response. Hanzo does not turn to look at him.

“Howdy there, darlin’. You doin all right?” he directs his question toward Hana as he makes his way to the coffee maker. Already, she looks better than she did when he saw her barely an hour ago, and he feels a little strange asking again so soon, but he can grab a drink and a snack and escape before it gets too awkward.

“I’m like peaches,” Hana replies, and McCree pauses with his hand on the coffee pot. He sees Hanzo straighten his back out of the corner of his eye before he turns all the way to look at Hana.

“Like peaches?” he repeats.

“Isn’t that one of your weird cowboy phrases?” she asks between shoving chips in her mouth. “Something about peaches?”

“I…” McCree starts, hesitates, his mind racing. Something about peaches?

Hanzo carries two mugs of tea over to the table, says something too quietly for McCree to hear, and Hana sits up straighter, snaps her fingers, and looks at McCree.

“That’s it--‘peachy keen.’ I’m peachy keen, darlin’,” she says, mimicking McCree’s slow drawl and doing a horrible job of it.

McCree almost doesn’t hear Hanzo’s chuckle under his own. Almost. McCree lets out a loud bark of a laugh, but he sees Hanzo’s shoulders shaking and stops, about to ask the man if he’s okay, before he hears it--a soft, breathy sound that lasts not nearly long enough before Hanzo shakes his head, pushes Hana’s tea closer to her and says something quietly in Korean. Hana smiles widely up at him before grabbing her tea.

Hanzo sits across from her with his own tea, expression as soft as when he’s watching his brother enjoying himself with friends or calmly meditating with Zenyatta. A sort of familial fondness McCree wouldn’t have expected Hanzo to direct at anyone, let alone a rambunctious kid like Hana. McCree dumps some cold coffee in a mug, yanks a random bag of chips from the pantry, and sits at the table next to Hanzo.

“And how’re you doin’ tonight, sugar?” he asks, smiling at Hanzo. McCree knows after a long life of using his charming smile and easy flirting to get himself out of many difficult situations how smooth and charismatic he is. His easy smile is contagious and warm, and it’s rare for him to find someone it doesn’t work on. Which is why it surprises McCree that the softness from Hanzo’s expression fades back into his hard, impassive stare, especially after all the progress McCree is sure they’ve made the past few weeks.

“I am well,” he says, voice completely neutral. “And yourself?”

McCree recovers quickly from Hanzo’s expression change now that he’s pretty sure this is simply his natural face and not his way of showing dislike and turns his easy grin to Hana.

“Well, I’m peachy keen, I s’pose,” he says, winking at Hana who laughs and sips her tea.

McCree manages to get Hana talking, and they pass the night in easy conversation about games and tea and the snack Hanzo found for her, which is her favorite of all time that she hasn’t been able to find in Gibraltar. But Hanzo mostly stays silent, and McCree has to stop himself from watching him, wanting to see that gentle smile or that quiet laugh.

#

The next morning--late morning, since McCree stayed up so late drinking coffee and then whiskey--McCree finds his way to the shooting range. When he can actually focus on it, seeing each target fall, seeing each perfectly-placed bullet hole helps him clear his head. Like his own kind of meditation, he thinks, when he passes the building he knows Genji, Zen, and Hanzo like to climb for their meditation. They’re probably up there now, he thinks, and he lingers for a moment, but not long enough to say anything.

He hears shots coming from the shooting range and enters quietly, somehow both surprised and not to see Hana shooting with Hanzo standing over her shoulder, arms crossed, face unreadable as always. She hits the targets, and her shots are grouped fairly well on each, but she’s not hitting the bullseye. McCree has seen her do much better in practice many times over the past year, and again he wonders what was troubling her enough to keep her awake the night before.

When she empties the chamber, she steps back, shoulders slumped, and frowns at Hanzo. He holds his hand out, and she hands him her gun. He reloads it quickly then takes her place to shoot. He holds up the gun in front of him, and his grip is a little awkward, almost like he’s as likely to throw the gun down as shoot it. He holds it out a little too far in front of him, and his stance isn’t as stable as it could be. McCree smirks, glad that damn archer isn’t good at everything. Hanzo fires off a few shots--two in each of the three targets swaying at the end of the lane, and while they’re grouped fine, they also don’t hit the bullseye.

McCree steps forward, ready to correct Hanzo, but Hanzo is already shifting his stance slightly, getting a better grip. Hanzo turns his head to look at Hana and takes an exaggeratedly deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, visibly relaxes and steadies himself. He turns his head back to the target and fires three shots, directly into the bullseye of each target. They’re not perfect shots--McCree could do better--but they would do the job well enough.

He flips on the safety of Hana’s gun and hands it back to her. She steps up again, takes up her stance, still a little too stiff. Next to her, Hanzo takes a deep breath, exaggerating it again, and Hana follows suit. Hanzo rolls his shoulders back, and McCree watches the way his muscles dance through his tight shirt. Hanzo takes a step back and motions for Hana to fire. She does, six shots, the first few much closer to the center of the target, and the last two hit the bullseye.

Hana pauses for a moment, clicks the safety on, then sets her gun down slowly. When she looks up, Hanzo is smiling gently at her, and she jumps up, fists pumping in the air wildly. Hanzo’s tight-lipped smile becomes a fuller grin at the girl’s antics, and he lets out that soft, breathy chuckle, and from this angle, McCree can see the way even this small smile lights up Hanzo’s entire face, softens every hard line into a look filled with genuine affection and damn it all if the sight doesn’t make McCree’s chest tighten and his breath catch a little in his throat.

McCree hooks his thumbs into his belt, leans back a little and lets out a soft whistle.

“Well now, Miss Hana, that’s some mighty fine shootin’,” he calls out.

She turns to him, still smiling and says, “I know, right?”

McCree keeps his eyes on Hanzo, watches him compose his face back into impassivity as McCree comes closer. Hanzo nods his greeting, and McCree tips his hat.

“Mornin’ darlin’” he says, and he thinks he sees Hanzo’s eyes narrow for a moment, too quickly, before he blinks and his face is once again unreadable.

“Don’t s’pose you two would mind if I take over a lane, would you?” he asks, ignoring Hanzo’s frown in favor of Hana’s wide smile.

“Sure, cowboy, help yourself,” she says, then turns back to Hanzo to chat excitedly about her shot.

McCree moves away to another lane, but he can still hear them speak.

“You have done this before; I have seen you do so many times,” Hanzo says in his low, deep voice.

“I know, I know.”

“You are acting as if this is your first excellent shot. You know you have the skill but require more time to practice,” Hanzo says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She has the skill, he said, like he didn’t just compliment her and make her face light up.

Hana nods, smiling, and retrieves her gun from the floor.

“Good. Again.”

Hanzo steps back again and watches Hana shoot. As he says, she’s clearly a decent shot--her shots tend to group in tight patterns--but she doesn’t always hit the bullseye as the targets move and sway down the lane. She’s not compensating for the movement quite right. When she empties this clip, she turns back to Hanzo.

“I know--I’m not leading my targets right,” she says, before he can open his mouth. Then she straightens her back and crosses her arms over her chest, pouting her lips in an exaggerated frown. “You must compensate for the movement. If you see your shots hit too high, you must aim lower,” she says, her voice deep and rough in a terrible impression of Hanzo.

McCree tenses, expects the archer to say something biting, but he surprises McCree by letting out one his breathy chuckles.

McCree doesn’t understand Hanzo’s response, as he says it in Korean, but he sees Hana clench her jaw to stop herself from smiling.

“Haha,” Hana says dryly, punching Hanzo in the shoulder. “You think I can’t hack it outside of my mech?”

“On the contrary, Usagi,” Hanzo says, bowing his head slightly. “I know you can. As you know you can. I have seen you make many excellent shots outside of your mech, and I know--as you do--with more training, those excellent shots will happen more often.”

Hana crosses her arms over her chest, leans back a little, purses her lips in a little pout, but even McCree can tell how pleased she is from the praise.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, eyeing her targets down the firing lane.

“While we are on the topic of training,” Hanzo says, following her gaze to look at her targets, “I will be unable to attend our next two regular practice sessions.”

“What?” Hana asks, frowning up at him.

“I apologize,” he says, dipping his head in a small bow. “I will be off-base for a few days to take care of some business, but Bastion and Satya will still attend with you. And,” he raises his voice a little, “perhaps our resident sharpshooter can work with you while I am gone, since he has been watching our practice so closely,” Hanzo says, then turns his head, not all the way, but enough so he can get McCree, standing behind Hanzo, into his line of sight. McCree starts at the sudden attention.

“Ah--sorry, sugar, I wasn’t tryin’ to be nosy.” He realizes then, much too late, that he had been watching them the entire time, and of course it would have been obvious when they never heard the report of his rather loud gun from his firing lane. “I’d be happy to help, Miss Hana.”

Hanzo nods once, then turns his attention back to Hana, who’s grinning up at him.

“I’ll forgive you,” she says, slowly, too sweetly, causing Hanzo to tense up under her mischievous stare, steeling himself as only an elder sibling can. “If you can convince the cowboy to tell me how he really lost his arm.”

“What?” Hanzo and McCree both ask, and Hana’s grin only grows wider.

“We’ve all asked him a million times, but he won’t tell any of us. Maybe you can get him to tell you,” Hana says.

Hanzo starts to turn, as if he’s going to turn around and ask McCree right then, but then he stops himself, looks back at Hana, leans a little closer and starts speaking in rapid-fire Korean, his voice deep and stern, like he’s scolding her. Hana stares at him, her eyes going wider until he breaks off his final comment with one more glance over his shoulder at McCree.

Hana stares at Hanzo, brow furrowed for a moment after he finishes speaking, before her face breaks into a huge, toothy grin and she chokes out a high-pitched and breathy laugh. She presses her arms around her belly and shakes with it, laughing until she has to wipe at her eyes. Hanzo looks down the range at her targets, but when he turns to do so, McCree can just make out his profile, and it’s clear he’s trying not to smile.

“What?” McCree asks, finally walking closer. “What did he say?”

Hana can only keep on with her giggling fit, holding up a hand to motion for McCree to wait, and he does, arms crossed over his chest and tapping one foot in mock impatience. When she finally stops laughing long enough to look at McCree, she crosses her arms over her chest to mirror him, then looks at Hanzo, still facing away. She shrugs, her smile a little too innocent. “He says there’s no way you’d tell him.” She manages to say it with a straight face, but she breaks into laughter as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

McCree narrows his eyes at her because he has no way of proving she’s lying, so he just looks between Hana and Hanzo, then places his hands on his hips, giving Hanzo a gentle nudge with his elbow as he does so.

“Well, hell, how can he know that ‘less he asks?” McCree says, turning to look at Hanzo, who is still facing away. “I might could be convinced to say,” he says, lowering his voice and turning the charm way up.

McCree watches Hanzo’s entire body go rigid and tense, all the humor from only a moment ago now missing entirely.

“This concludes our training today,” Hanzo says, still not looking at McCree. “I will see you when I return.” He makes his exit too quickly for either one of them to respond, so they both simply watch the archer exit. And even though Hanzo is still tense as hell, McCree has to admit to himself the tensed muscles paint a fine picture under that tight shirt. Shame he’s so damn prickly. McCree doesn’t realize he’s staring until Hanzo disappears out the door, and then he finally turns his gaze back to Hana, who watches him with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What?” he asks.

“What did you do to him?” she asks, and even though she’s much smaller than McCree, she sounds uncomfortably threatening.

“Not sure what you mean, pumpkin,” he says, hands up, as if to defend himself.

“It took a lot of work for him to stop being a big grump all the time, you know? Whatever you did, you better make it right.”

“Hell, I don’t know what happened,” McCree says, because he doesn’t. “You heard the whole conversation. You tell me what I did wrong,” he says, but he sounds more hurt than angry, and he knows. Hana only huffs at him and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what his problem with me is.”

Hana turns back to her target, but McCree keeps watching the door like he expects Hanzo to come back through any second and explain what happened. But McCree knows he won’t, which means he has to figure it out for himself. _Take care to do so before it is too late_ , an echo of a voice reminds him.

#

Vaswani isn’t interested in training with McCree, and Bastion seems happy to keep her company, so McCree ends up working one-on-one with Hana who has already forgiven him for whatever he did to annoy Hanzo.

Hana’s quite the little chatterbox, and it doesn’t take much to get her going, so he figures out quickly this group started training together a few weeks back; Hanzo beat Hana at a shooting contest with her own gun and she decided she needed more than the weekly large-group practice sessions. She asked Hanzo if they could train together a few weeks after he beat her score, and he agreed, as long as she didn’t mind if Satya and Bastion joined.

McCree thinks that everyone on base could benefit from practicing more regularly, but he doesn’t want to interrupt her, so he holds his tongue.

When she finally stops talking long enough to shoot, McCree jokes that he’d beat her score, too, and wonders why she didn’t ask _him_ to teach her.

“Hanzo’s more fun,” she says, and the admission stops him short.

“Hanzo? Is more fun than me? Mr. ‘I Have No Emotions’ is more fun than me? Honey, you gotta be kiddin’ me,” he says as he pulls out Peacekeeper and twists it and pops it up in the air to show off some of his more tame tricks.

Hana rolls her eyes dramatically and then shrugs, and McCree holsters his gun as the memory of a few days ago strikes him.

“What did Mr. ‘More Fun’ say when you asked about my arm?”

Hana smiles a little at the memory but shakes her head. “I don’t think you’d think it was all that funny. It was surprising more than anything because it’s so rare for him to make a joke, you know?”

“Come on, darlin’, I’ve been thinkin’ about it since it happened.”

She lifts her shoulders in a small shrug but still concedes. She cocks her hip and then holds her hands up like she’s counting things off a list as she recalls what he said: “It was bit off by a bear, you were stung by a mutant scorpion and had to chop it off to stop the venom, you lost a fight with a wood chipper, you thought Genji’s and Torb’s looked cool and decided to get your own upgrades, it got pulled off while you were trying to jump on a train so you got it replaced so you could grab onto fast-moving trains to hitch rides more easily.” She puts her hands on her hips and thinks for a moment. “There were a few more he said, but I don’t remember.”

“Is that right,” McCree says, rubbing his hand over his beard. He doesn’t really pay attention when Hana turns back to keep shooting because he can’t help but think about that list. Those were all answers he gave at some point when someone on base asked him how he lost his arm over the past year and a half since the Recall. He doesn’t remember who all was in the room when he said each one, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t remember Hanzo ever being there when he told one of his stories, and he’s damn sure Hanzo never straight-out asked him. That’s a lot of fake answers for someone who never really liked him to remember. That’s...well, that’s _something_ , McCree is sure, but he’s not sure what it is.

Hana pulls his attention back when she hits the bullseye several times in a row and jumps up in a quick celebratory dance. She turns her wide grin on McCree and shoves her gun in his hands, taking him up on his earlier joking offer of a shooting contest. He takes it and lines up his shots. His head’s not in it, but he’s an excellent shot, and he beats her score.

“Do you have any tips, Mr. Hot Shot? What’s the secret trick to make sure I always hit my mark?” Hana asks, holding her hand out for her gun. McCree chuckles and hands it over.

“The trick is to not hesitate. When you have the shot, you take the shot,” he says, without even having to think about it.

Hana only rolls her eyes, and McCree smiles at her but can’t help but wonder if he shouldn’t have said it more dramatically--maybe while performing a trick shot to help the message sink in.

“You’re as bad as Hanzo,” she says, surprising him. “He said basically the same thing.”

“He did?”

“He reminded us of the difference between patience and hesitance,” Vaswani says, speaking to McCree for the first time since dismissing his help at the beginning of their session. Bastion beeps a little behind her as she pauses, like she’s just realizing she spoke to the gunslinger.

“And what’s the difference?”

“We are patient when we know what we are doing; we are hesitant when we do not,” she says, chin lifted a little to glare down her nose at him, as if this conversation were beneath her. She seems more sure of herself after Bastion beeps again, and she continues. “He told us that you must be patient with yourself and your weapon. Do not aim without the intent to fire because once you have your shot, you must not hesitate.”

“Is that right,” McCree says, and the architech turns back to Bastion to continue their practice separately while Hana keeps shooting. McCree tries to keep his attention on Hana, but he finds he can’t focus past the familiar ache behind his eye.

#

_“The trick is to not hesitate,” Ana told him when he’d asked what her secret was. She didn’t look at him, instead keeping her eye focused on the target in front of her, rifle steady. “When you have the shot, you take the shot.” As if to punctuate this, she fired her rifle, several quick shots, and the training bots toppled like dominos from all over the room. He hadn’t even seen her move the rifle to hit those wide angles._

_“Though it certainly helps to have an eye for it,” she said, finally turning to look at Jesse. “Your turn, cowboy. Let’s see that aim,” she said, pressing her rifle into his hands._

_He couldn’t hit the targets at the distances she could--at least, not as accurately. But he had the eye for it, and he was an excellent shot, and he still did better than many of the trained snipers. Ana nodded at him when he emptied the clip, and he grinned back up at her._

_“You did not count your shots,” Ana said, eyeing the bots already resetting down the lane._

_“I knew I’d have enough,” he said, cocky, because he always had enough. At this, Ana turned her gaze on him._

_“That’s a dangerous game to play.” Her voice went softer, gentler, when she asked, “Who taught you to fight like that?”_

_“Don’t know what you mean, ma’am. I do the same thing you do,” he said and turned back to the range where the targets reset. He let out a heavy breath and felt the heat on his skin as he narrowed his vision to each target, “Set ‘em up,” he said, and in the next breath, they were all down._

_He looked back up at Amari with a sharp grin. “Knock ‘em down.”_

_She returned his smile, but hers was tight and worried. “Mind that mask, Jesse.”_

_Before it is too late._

#

McCree wakes from dreams of fire red like blood, smoke too thick to see through, and a deep, gravelly voice reminding him death comes for all. He has Peacekeeper in his hand before he’s fully awake, ready to shoot whatever ghosts may have followed him from his dreams, but as he pulls himself more fully out of sleep, he calms his breathing and wipes the sweat from his face on the bedsheet. He keeps his gun in his hand, though, carefully studying every inch of his room, looking for anything out of place, and finding nothing.

He lets out a steady stream of curses in Spanish then, and keeps up his tirade while he cleans himself up in the bathroom, throws on warmer clothes, and heads outside with his carton of cigarillos. He doesn’t bother checking the time--the sun’s not up yet, and no color has even begun to tint the sky. _Too early._

He stays that way for too long, coffee in one hand and a cigarillo in the other, watching the night pass around him. If it weren’t for the perfect stillness all around him, he would have missed the quick flash of color in the dark.

In one quick movement, McCree stamps out his cigarillo and draws Peacekeeper. He takes aim, but uncertainty stays his hand. Athena hasn’t sounded any alarms about intruders, and even this close to the edge of the base, there’s no reason to think it’s anyone but another agent. He hesitates. The figure steps into the light, dark eyes meeting his own.

“I didn’t realize you wanted me dead so badly, gunslinger,” Hanzo says, his voice thick with exhaustion. Even from a distance, McCree can see the way he favors his left leg, can see the blood soaking through most of his clothes, can see too many cuts and fresh bruises along his neck and the skin revealed by his torn shirt.

“I didn’t realize it was you, archer,” McCree says, holstering his gun. McCree steps closer, not bothering to hide the way he looks the archer up and down, eyeing the blood on him, his too-loose grip on his bow. “Let me guess: I should see the other guy?”

Hanzo grits his teeth in a rough approximation of a grin. “If you can find the body.”

“Damn, sugar, that’s dark,” McCree says, and watches as Hanzo’s face turns back into something closer to his usual neutral mask, but he can’t disguise the way he winces when he moves as he continues walking deeper into the compound.

 _Interesting_ , McCree thinks, because for just a moment, they were friendly. Joking with one another. Things weren’t so bad between them in the first week or so after Hanzo’s return to Gibraltar, and though McCree has tried, he can’t pinpoint the moment the archer’s unreadable face had become actively unfriendly (despite not changing at all, which was a feat on its own). He clears his throat and brings himself back to the present.

“Let me help you to medbay,” McCree says, reaching for Hanzo, but the archer brushes him off easily.

“It is nothing,” Hanzo says in his calm voice.

“That’s an awful lot of blood for it to be nothin’” McCree says, falling into step next to Hanzo.

“Most of it is not mine.”

“Still--” McCree starts, but Hanzo cuts him off.

“There is nothing wrong with me that cannot be fixed with a good night’s sleep,” Hanzo says, a little curtly. He wrinkles his nose and says, a little more softly, “and, I suppose, a hot shower.”

McCree chuckles at this but doesn’t respond right away. He follows Hanzo back toward the part of the base that houses the dorms, and when they get close, Hanzo pauses, his hand on the door.

“I apologize for the lateness of my arrival. I hope you were not waiting for my return,” he says, eyebrows drawn in a way McCree guesses is probably as close to apologetic as the man ever looks.

“Naw, I was up anyway. Good thing I wasn’t expecting you, though. A man could die of old age waitin’ on you,” he says with an exaggerated wink because in that moment, his mind puts together a theory of when and why Hanzo avoids him, and he wants to test it out. McCree’s been reading people since he was a kid--it’s how he survived before...everything else. And Hanzo has had McCree off his game for too long while McCree scrambles to change tactics and figure the man out. If Hanzo storms off right now, then McCree’s finally onto something, can finally figure out how to act around the archer, can finally go more than two conversations without pissing him off unless he means to.

Hanzo studies McCree’s face for a moment, nods, then holds the door open for both of them to walk through and McCree decides in that moment that Hanzo is simply impossible. Genji, Vaswani, Hana, hell, even Bastion seem to understand the man’s strange moods and unpredictable reactions, but McCree doesn’t stand a chance against those dark eyes and sharp features. What does it mean to be able to read a person in the face of such meticulously-maintained composure? McCree tries not to let his disappointment show as he walks next to Hanzo in silence.

When they turn toward the hall with the rooms, the thought of letting Hanzo out of his sight when he’s so obviously injured sparks an unsettling discomfort that rattles around his mind, trying to drown out his thoughts.

“Don’t you want to hear how Hana and them did in practice?” he asks, voice a little too loud.

Hanzo makes a quiet hum in the back of his throat, a sound somewhere between acknowledgement and consideration. “If you would like to tell me, I would be happy to hear it, but I am sure they will give me plenty of details.”

McCree opens his mouth to say more, but they’re in front of Hanzo’s door now, and the archer cuts him off.

“Another time, McCree,” Hanzo says, and he sounds so tired. “For now, I need rest.”

McCree’s breath catches in his throat, so he only nods, unable to speak. Hanzo nods back and places his palm on the panel next to his door. The door slides open for him, and he disappears into his room. The soft click of the lock startles McCree and he releases the breath he’d been holding, eyeing the little trace of blood Hanzo left behind on the hand scanner.

 _The trick is to not hesitate,_  Ana’s voice reminds him, echoing painfully in his head. There’s a difference between patience and hesitance, he reminds himself, but it’s not as if he knows what the hell he’s doing.  

He turns to walk back to his own room, feeling restless, like the archer said something to rile him up, even though he barely said anything. The assassin never seemed to have much to say to McCree.

 _The archer, the assassin_ , McCree thinks, turning the words over in his head. Sharpshooter, gunslinger, cowboy. These were the names Hanzo usually called him, when he spoke to him at all. This may have been the first time Hanzo used his name.

 _Shit_ , McCree thinks. He takes a deep breath, finally willing to admit to himself that he recognizes that hesitance for what it is. Too late.

#

McCree doesn’t see Hanzo at breakfast, which doesn’t surprise him. What does surprise him is the way Vaswani bursts into the dining area and fixes Angela with her intense gaze.

“Dr. Ziegler,” she says, and though her voice barely rises above its normal volume, the entire room quiets and turns to stare.

“Yes?”

“I require your assistance immediately,” Vaswani says and takes a step back, as if she expects Angela to jump up and follow her without question. To her credit, the doctor does rise to her feet and move closer.

“Are you injured?” she asks, studying the architech and looking for potential injuries.

“I am not,” Vaswani says, at the same time McCree spots the blood on her hands.

“Everything okay?” Lúcio asks, his eyes tracking from Vaswani’s hands to Angela.

Instead of responding to the medic, Vaswani turns to Angela. “Will you require assistance?”

“I’m not certain. Without knowing what I’m dealing with, I won’t know what help I need.”

Vaswani turns back around and fixes her intense gaze on Lúcio. “Come,” she says, then turns and begins to walk, without looking back to make sure either of them are following. They both do. “I have also sent for Agent Zenyatta, in case you require his assistance, as well.”

“Can you at least tell us who’s hurt?” Lúcio asks, but they’re already too far down the hall for anyone in the dining room to hear Vaswani’s response.

The dining hall erupts into speculation, but it’s no secret Vaswani’s only real friends on base are Hanzo and Bastion, and the omnic doesn’t bleed. She and Winston get on well enough, and she seems to respect Mei and Angela for their work, and McCree saw her be almost friendly with Hana during practice, but all of them are accounted for, and after seeing the archer stumble into the base last night all bloodied, he knows who she was all in a panic over. And, the room agrees, that was definitely her in a panic. Blood on her hands, a wrinkled dress. Her voice and face were as calm as ever, but those small details were enough to give away the normally perfectly-composed woman’s state. And dragging three healers in? Hanzo was either gravely injured or Vaswani’s in an even greater state of panic than they guessed.

The speculations don’t last long before Lúcio returns, looking a little amused.

“Tell us everything, love,” Lena demands, the second he’s back in the room. Lúcio chuckles a little and takes his seat next to Hana, who has been typing furiously on her comm since Vaswani's appearance.

“Well, you know, there’s doctor-patient confidentiality and stuff, so I can’t really tell you much. But everyone is fine. Really, it’s nothing serious. I think Satya probably doesn’t see many injuries and didn’t know.”

They try to ask him more questions, but Reinhardt distracts them all with a proclamation that he will make one of his “hearty, regenerative stews” for dinner, which is met with a mix of groans and chuckles. McCree quickly decides he’s too restless to sit in here and pretend he’s not thinking about Hanzo, so he scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and makes a hasty escape before anyone can drag him into a conversation.

He spends some time in the shooting range, ignoring the ache behind his eye, and when that doesn’t satisfy him, he finds himself wandering toward the radar array building. He doesn’t see Hanzo hiding behind it, which, given Vaswani’s panic earlier (even with Lúcio’s reassurance that it wasn’t that serious), doesn’t surprise him.

He also doesn’t see him with Vaswani and Bastion in the garden that afternoon, which does. The two don’t seem too bothered by his absence--the architech seems to have calmed considerably and is back to looking as composed and perfect as ever, but McCree’s used to poking his head out to see the three of them sitting together, sometimes drinking tea, sometimes folding paper, sometimes chatting, sometimes silent.

His skin crawls and his eye aches as he makes his way back inside, desperate to do something with his hands to keep busy.

Tea isn’t always as straightforward as it should be, but McCree’s made it before. The kind with the bags. He grabs a random box of tea from the pantry, drops one of the bags in a mug of hot water and pours coffee in another. Armed with his drinks, he avoids the main hallways and makes his way, hidden, to Hanzo’s room. He hesitates for only a second before kicking the toe of his boot gently against the door. Knocking is more symbolic than anything here, as Athena will alert Hanzo to his visitor.

The door is thick enough that he can’t hear anything through it, and he wonders if Hanzo is even inside when it takes almost a full minute for him to answer. The door slides open to reveal Hanzo, hair down, gi open across his wide chest, lounge pants hanging low on his hips. He has one hand braced on the wall next to the door, the other on his hip. One stately eyebrow raises at the sight of McCree, holding two steaming mugs at his door.

“I did not realize you were so eager to discuss Hana, Satya, and Bastion's performance,” Hanzo says, eyeing the mugs in McCree’s hands warily.

“Ah, actually, I just came to make sure you’re all right, partner. You seemed mighty beat up last night. Wanted to see if I could do anything for you. And I come bearing tea,” at this, he holds the mug of tea out for Hanzo. Hanzo eyes the mug, then turns those stormy brown eyes on McCree, staring at him, face entirely unreadable. McCree shifts a little under the study of that heavy gaze, and Hanzo gives a small nod, steps aside to let McCree enter his room.

They both sit at the small table in the corner of the room, Hanzo keeping one hand on his hip--not his hip, McCree realizes, his side. He’s probably still in pain.

“I am doing fine, but thank you for your concern.”

“Sure thing,” McCree says and winces at his own dumb response. This was maybe not his best idea because he hadn’t really thought past bringing Hanzo tea. He sort of expected Hanzo would simply turn him away, but now that he’s in Hanzo’s meticulously organized room, he’s unsure what to say next. Instead, he watches Hanzo take a sip of his tea, pause for a moment with a clenched jaw, and then take another sip. Must not be very good tea.

Before McCree can beat himself up over his lack of a plan, Hanzo saves him.

“Since you are here, would you like to tell me about training? Though I feel I should inform you Satya already provided a full report,” Hanzo says.

“Oh yeah? How’d I do?” McCree asks, leaning back in his seat a little to look more at ease than he feels.

“Satya said you may have been an acceptable teacher if you spent more time teaching instead of flirting.”

“Don’t see why I can’t do both,” McCree says with a mischievous wink.

“Clearly,” Hanzo mutters, and McCree frowns, certain that he’s just been insulted but unsure exactly how.

They fall back into silence while McCree fidgets in his seat.

He should have left this to Vaswani or Bastion. Or Genji. Or Hana. Any of them could probably do a better job of cheering Hanzo up--or even reading Hanzo’s impassive expression well enough to know if he even wants to be cheered up or if he simply wants to be left alone. He fidgets in his seat, taking slow, careful sips of his coffee.

 _The trick is to not hesitate_ , the voice in his head tells him. He just needs to figure out what the hell he's doing.

McCree uses the silence to examine Hanzo’s room. There’s not a single thing out of place, and from simply looking around, McCree sees nothing that would tell him anything about Hanzo. It’s a mercenary's room--organized with the knowledge that he might need to pick up and leave with little notice. It’s not the room of someone who’s here to stay.

When McCree turns back to Hanzo, he finds the archer watching him while he sips his tea, one eyebrow raised, like he’s waiting for McCree to speak, and he remembers what Hanzo said the last time they spoke behind the radar array building--that McCree is only quiet when he has something to say and is hesitant to say it. Hanzo is letting him decide--to say it or give himself more time.

“Why’d you leave?” McCree asks. It’s not the question he wants to ask, he’s certain, but he can’t string his thoughts together well enough to figure out what it is he wants to ask instead. So this will do for now, and it might get Hanzo talking. Except that it doesn’t. It occurs to McCree that Hanzo might not understand what he means--he just returned injured from a mysterious several-day absence no one seems to know anything about. But from Hanzo’s expression, somehow even more stern than usual, he seems to understand that McCree is asking about all those months ago when Genji first brought him in for the Recall and Hanzo stuck around for only a few short weeks before disappearing for over a year.

Hanzo sets his mug down carefully and much too slowly, glaring at McCree as he does. Like he’s about to produce a weapon from thin air and make McCree regret ever opening his damn mouth. McCree fidgets in his seat, takes a sloppy sip of his coffee and ends up with most of it on his chin, but he recovers quickly. He’s been stared down before; hell, Hanzo’s little “untouchable” act had _nothing_ on Gabe after a tough mission or a fight with Jack.

McCree straightens his spine while Hanzo’s eyes finally shift from his face and rove across the rest of him, assessing, sizing him up. McCree digs his metal fingers into his knee to repress a shudder. The silence goes on for too long after Hanzo finishes his silent inspection and returns his entirely unreadable and increasingly unfriendly gaze back to meet McCree’s eyes.

“How did you lose your arm?” Hanzo asks, and the question shocks a response from McCree before he can really think about it.

“Shark attack.”

Hanzo’s lips don’t turn enough for McCree to call it a smile; the gentle curve of his lips only serves to make his expression even more confusing.

Hanzo lifts one shoulder in a shrug and waves his arm toward McCree, as if to say “there you have it.”

McCree’s been off his game with Hanzo. He can make use of his charm and charisma as easily as breathe and have most people unsteady and smiling along with him in minutes, but Hanzo has always been entirely unaffected. But this moment feels like an opening of some sort--a show of honesty, albeit honesty veiled in Hanzo’s typical inscrutable mannerisms. McCree feels, though, that he might actually be able to connect with the quiet archer who secretly likes to laugh if he just says the right thing.

“Didn’t think a shark could chase off a dragon.”

McCree knows he fucked up when Hanzo doesn’t smile. His eyebrows do that thing McCree has seen them do many times when Hanzo is sizing a target up, determining whether or not it’s a threat, lowering slightly before raising a little too high to look entirely casual.

“If given the choice, why would a dragon endure a school of sharks when he did not need to?”

“I didn’t mean…” McCree starts, but he’s not sure what to say because he knows Hanzo took it differently than how he meant, but he’s not sure what Hanzo thinks he meant. But he’s saved from having to figure it out by Hanzo taking another deep drink then pushing his empty mug across the table toward McCree.

“I know what you meant,” Hanzo says, though McCree isn’t sure how he could. “Thank you for the tea,” he says, standing. McCree does the same, recognizing the action as a dismissal.

McCree lets himself be ushered out, silently chastising himself for asking why Hanzo left, knowing that’s not the question he wanted to ask.

The words stitch themselves together slowly, like watching someone rip a sheet of paper in reverse, and he turns, takes a breath to ask, as the door slides shut, locking him out.

 _Damn_ , he thinks with a wry smile, _too late_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there’s the chapter for you! It took me a while because I feel like McCree is much harder to write than Hanzo for some reason? I wrote a short one-shot called “Been Lookin’ For You” (please check it out if you haven’t!) to try to get more comfortable with McCree’s character, but I’m writing his character so differently for this fic that it didn’t really help. I might keep trying to write shorter one-shots in between chapters, though, because even though it didn’t help me figure out McCree’s character for this fic, it did help me keep writing when I was stressed!  
> And maybe one day I’ll write a chapter for this fic that doesn’t have someone getting injured on a mission! Haha who am I kidding, that’s, like, my thing, apparently??  
> Someone asked after my last update if I have a tumblr, and I lurk but don’t have an account, though I’m definitely thinking about making one. If I do, I’ll let y’all know! It seems like that’s a great way to get ideas and prompts for writing exercises, and since “Been Lookin’ For You” was so helpful, I might have to do that if I struggle with the next chapter as much as I struggled with this one!  
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like it! <3


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